


From Shadows

by ForgivenWhimsy



Series: Blood Lily [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blow Job, Bukkake, Canon-Typical Violence, Conjury Headcanons, Cum Eating, Cunnilingus, Deep Throating, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fingering, First Time Sex, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Making Out, No Beta, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Takes place between patch 5.1 and 5.2, Undressing Each Other, Vaginal Sex, and they were ROOMMATES, post shadowbringers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgivenWhimsy/pseuds/ForgivenWhimsy
Summary: Estinien's feelings towards Shiloh, the Warrior of Light, were complicated, a tightly wound knot he didn’t know how to start untangling so he ignored it, and avoided her. Until he couldn't anymore, because she's shown up in his new backyard, Kugane, unstable, desperate, and making questionable choices. He finds himself rescuing his erstwhile friend yet again, but this is nothing like Ghimlyt.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Blood Lily [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872403
Comments: 42
Kudos: 107





	1. Home away from Home - Estinien

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up at the very end of Patch 5.1

Shiloh chased him down, catching him at Mor Dhona’s northern gate breathless, just recently returned from the First. The nine months since saving her at Ghimlyt left their mark on her, longer hair, chin length now, thinner, or perhaps it was the bulk of her coat that made her seem smaller. Dark circles stood out, stark against her pale skin, her freckles mapped across a tired face that had seen Gods know what on that distant shard. 

“Estinien! I promise I’m not trying to rope you into anything, slow down.” When she reached him she smiled, golden eyes hopeful, and unreasonably happy to see him. 

“Why chase me down if not to rope me into a new scheme.” Estinien crossed his arms, smirking.

“Why chase you down, we haven't seen each other-” he cocked his head, “I haven't seen you in three years, not since…” She licked her lips, rubbing the back of her neck before giving him a pleading smile, “have a drink with me, surely you have time for that? I want to hear about what you’ve been up to.”

“You just heard my report, and you got to see first hand with your echo, what more do you want to know?” Estinien swallowed the pang of guilt watching her face fall. 

“I could tell you about what I’ve been doing, if you like, I have some pretty crazy stories. Come on, do two old friends need a reason to catch up?” She clasped her hands behind her back and offered a sweet smile and big doe eyes, Estinien arched an eyebrow at her, not her usual tactic. He ran a hand through his hair and looked away from her. 

“Shiloh.” Her name came out more exasperated then he’d meant, her smile faltered, “I have an airship to catch, another time, perhaps.” 

“Right.” She shook her head and stepped back, “of course, you’re a busy man. Another time. Just don’t let it be in another three years.” The intended jovial quip fell flat, she pressed her lips together, and shuffled awkwardly on the cobblestone road.

He took a step away, but turned, not wanting to leave things between them so strained, “stay out of trouble.” 

“You know me!” 

Estinien chuckled, knowing full well there was no way Shiloh Mitka, Warrior of Light would stay out of trouble for long. He turned, intent on jumping to the tops of the cliffs.

“Estinien.” Her voice broke, almost panicked. He turned once more and watched her lick her lips, and open and close her mouth trying to find whatever words she wanted to tell him, he pointedly ignored the shine reflecting in her eyes, finally she shook her head and offered a defeated and sad smile instead. “Sorry, never mind. Be safe out there.” 

“And you, Shiloh.” He inclined his head, turned and leapt away, the sentimentality of goodbyes grating him, eager to be away from her and the guilt he felt whenever she was near. 

  
  
  


The exchange was a fortnight ago, but the guilt lingered, thoughts circling back to Shiloh time and again. His feelings towards her were complicated, a tightly wound knot he didn’t know how to start untangling so he ignored it, and avoided her. Watching her from afar was easier than facing her head on. Estinien ranckled at his own cowardice. He cared for her far more than he would ever let on, admitting only that she was a dear friend, and he was fiercely protective of those he considered friends. He swelled with pride whenever he heard of her exploits. He was grateful to her for saving his life, he found a measure of peace since she’d rescued him, rediscovered who he was in the absence of revenge and hate, and the person who had emerged, though damaged, wasn’t a person he disliked. 

And yet there was a current of resentment and anger, when nightmares gripped him, she was a chief player in the terrors his subconsciousness visited upon him, and he had killed and been killed by her more times than he could count. When a dark mood would plague him, which was, frustratingly, often, he cursed her name, and the second chance at life she and Alphinaud had gifted him. Estinien had asked Shiloh, specifically, to kill him, and she’d denied him that release. And always, always it all spiraled into guilt and shame, the guilt of surviving when far better people than him had gone to Halone’s halls, people Shiloh had loved. No, better to keep his distance, better for him, and for her. She was more than capable, the Warrior of Light didn’t need him. 

Kugane was a city that never slept, which suited Estinien just fine, so much so that Estinien purchased a house in Shirogane, his house, not apartment, not barracks, not hostel, house, paid for by his own money in his own name. Whatever else he thought of Tataru, she was a generous employer, ultimately he was paid triple what was promised, a bonus from the alliance, she said, once they were informed of the nature of his mission. His payment coupled with finally accessing his funds in Ishgard, left him well positioned to live in peace for a good while. Aymeric, and Shiloh, and the rest of the Alliance could worry about Garlemald and whatever other crises were lurking below the surface of their troubled star, he’d done his part. He told no one where he was, not that it would stop the truly determined, it didn’t last time, still, let them work for it. The last ferry to Shirogane left a short time after the night's twelfs bell, he decided he needed to empty his mind of thoughts of Shiloh, Kugane was more than able to provide the necessary distractions.

Just past the eleventh bell, and only slightly tipsy, Estinien waved goodbye to the doe eyed Hyur woman who had spent the evening entertaining him. She served him drinks, played him music, and she played some Mahjong with him. He lost as many games as he won and broke even, she’d offered herself, and he might have paid to take her to bed were it not for the last niglings of his guilt, so he declined, he was content with her companionship as it was, and left, promising to visit her establishment again.

The street lights were lit, but were hardly needed with the way the moon shone, illuminating the eastern city with silvery light. Estinien looked up, legs itching, and rounded a corner, Kugane’s roofs and spires were made for him and a moment later he was travelling the rooftops, stopping at a particularly highpoint, taking in the view of the harbour, the city buzzed like a hive even at the late hour, and he inhaled the sweet and salty air, he felt lighter then he had in months. The last ferry to Shirogane left in just under a bell, enough time for him to buy some grilled squid to end his night. 

A scream pierced through the night, Estinien instinctively touched Nidhogg resting on his back. A second scream followed by angry yelling, had him running the rooftops away from his favored food stall. Approaching the commotion he heard a flurry of rapid Hingan and common from the gathering crowd.

“She said LEAVE ME ALONE, WHORESON!”

Estinien stopped cold. There was no way she was in Kugane. Not when the fate of two worlds rested on her shoulders, not when her work was left unfinished. He positioned himself to better see what was happening. 

“You are meddlesome. This doesn’t concern you, ijin bitch.” 

“Oh it be concerning when four sorry looking ruffmen start picking on an innocent dove, real bloody concerning ye savvy.” 

Estinien pinched the bridge of his nose, what in Halone’s name was she doing? He dropped himself quietly in an alleyway, she must be in a rare state for her Lominsan accent to come out so strongly. He had questions, and she would answer them, just as soon as the dimwits facing her were dealt with.

Shiloh swayed on unsteady legs, her long violet jacket thrown over the shoulders of another Auri woman who clutched her torn yukata to her chest. They were backed into a dead end by four men, three Hyur, and a Roegadyn. Shiloh’s staff was nowhere to be seen. Not that she especially needed it to dispatch a group of drunken thugs, though she was very drunk, Estinien moved quickly. 

  
  


Shiloh raised her fists, and landed a right hook in one of the Hyur’s jaw, it angered him more than anything. A quick flick of her wrists would’ve sent all four of them flying and ended the confrontation, she wasn’t one for brawls,usually. What in the seven hells was she about? 

Two of the four approached, she swung wide, and was easily countered earning a punch to the gut, followed by an elbow to the nose, Estinine heard a crunch, Shiloh’s face was a mess of blood pouring from her nose. So, no magic. She swung wildly but a third easily overtook her and had her arms behind her back, while two others laughed and used her like a training dummy...well until she threw up and they dropped her, all three stepped back in disgust. Shiloh managed to get lucky and kick one of them in the nethers bringing him to his knees. The ring leader pulled a pistol, aiming at Shiloh’s head, Estinien removed Nidhogg from his back, and leapt closing the rest of the distance. He landed quietly behind the gun toting Hyur, relieving him of his pistol, and probably breaking his wrist in the process, a well placed punch and a sweep to his legs had him sprawling before the other three knew what was happening. 

“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble!” He called out to Shiloh, sweeping Nidhogg, careful to subdue and not kill. 

“Wha-?” Shiloh spun around, wiping the blood rushing from her nose searching for his location, the loss of focus gave the remaining thug a clear opening, who hit her hard under her jaw. Estinien cursed watching her fall, senseless. Lovely. 

He was quick to finish what Shiloh started, and when he was certain they couldn’t get back up again he went to her side. It was quiet for a brief moment before the whistles of the sekisegumi filled the night air. The auri woman Shiloh had gone to such pains to defend was nowhere to be found, Shiloh’s jacket lay on the ground discarded in a heap. 

“That was embarrassing.” Estinien spoke to his unconscious charge, rolling her over and gingerly turning her face to better inspect the damage, he wrinkled his nose at the stench, she reeked of rum, moonshine? Whatever it was it covered the smell of blood and vomit, if he didn’t inhale too deeply. Her breathing was laboured, her left eye was a swelling mass, her nose continued bleeding, broken, and a painful bruise was colouring her jaw. This kind of recklessness wasn’t in her nature, but there would be time for answers later. 

“We really need to stop meeting like this.” He wrapped Shiloh in her coat like a blanket, and jumped away heading towards the ferry landing. 


	2. Damage - Shiloh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiloh wakes with the hangover of the century, not remembering much about the night before, and at a loss without the use of her magic.

Shiloh returned to consciousness slowly. The pressure and pounding in her head pulsed behind her eyes, her face and body radiated pain. She felt like her last meal had been cotton bolls rolled in sand. She groaned and opened her eyes, well eye, her left wouldn’t open past a thin slit. The room was bright, but not too bright, white walls, a simple dresser in the corner, short windows that spanned the length of the room near the ceiling filtered in the day's light through gray curtains. The blankets covering her were also grey, a nice enough room, but it didn’t assuage the growing panic of not knowing where in the seven hells she was or that she was in naught but her smalls under the blankets. She didn’t see her clothing anywhere. 

On the side table Shiloh spied a tall glass of water, and a couple of compact health potions, they were more concentrated then a typical potion, and formed into gelcaps. They were the type favoured by adventurers, and travelers. Next to the water was a folded note set atop a change of clothes. Shiloh swallowed down the potions, they didn’t totally erase the pain but it made thinking easier, taking the edge off. She drank the water greedily, not caring when some dribbled down her chin. She was mostly certain this wasn’t a one night stand situation, she knew what her body felt like after sex, what it smelled like, and while she stank to high heaven, there was none of the tell tale musk in the air or on the sheets, in fact the bed was mostly undisturbed, she still took a moment to check herself, and found no soreness between her legs. She grabbed the note, the writing, if the scribbles could be called that, was short and to the point. 

_Clothes sent to be laundered, will be returned by end of day. Bathroom first door on the left, use it. Will be back soon with food. E_

“E” It jogged but did not dislodge any knowledge, she did recall a confrontation, lots of yelling, and getting punched. 

Shiloh grabbed the clothing that was left for her, Whoever E was, they were one of the larger races, Elezen, Au Ra, or Roegadyn, Viera, maybe, because the shirt was comically large on her. The hem reaching past her knees, and the sleeves twice as long as her actual arms. They also provided some loose linen trousers, and even with the waist folded and the drawstring pulled as tight as it would go, they fell off her hips, she decided, given how long the shirt was, she didn’t need the trousers. 

She peeked out the door, she was at the end of a short hallway two doors on either side of her, before opening up into what appeared to be a sitting area. She slipped into the first door on her left. The bathroom was large, and white, with bright blue tiling. There was no bathtub, but the size of the shower area more than compensated for it. Plush white towels hung from rungs, there was a bench inside the shower, and a number of scented oils and soaps lined the built in shelves. The counter held two sinks, and a large square mirror hung in front of them. 

Shiloh locked the door behind her and carefully pulled the borrowed shirt off, then stepped out of her smalls and bralette. There was no escaping her reflection and she was a sorry sight, the braid she’d plaited in her chin length hair was undone and it stuck out in all directions, it also had a layer of dust in it, darkening her blonde hair a few shades, there was dried blood in her nostrils, though her face was mostly clean. Her chirurgeon training kicked in and she took stock of her injuries. Her black eye was the first thing she noticed, nearly swollen shut, the deep red and violet of the bruise covered almost half her face, reaching the ivory scales of her cheek. The blood vessels of her left eye had burst and stained her sclera an angry red. She gently prodded the bruises searching for damage hidden by the swelling but found none, her nose was slightly askance, broken, which explained the dried blood. It would need to be set before it healed crooked. She ran her tongue over her teeth, all accounted for, small mercies. She touched her jaw, opened and closed her mouth and noted the blooming bruise, likely the knockout punch, though with her hangover it was hard to ascertain if she was concussed. She travelled down her body, noted the bruise on her ribs, lifted her arms as high as they would go and took a deep breath, the stab of pain told her she likely had either bruised or cracked her ribs. Her memories from the night before were fuzzy at best, she vaguely remembered yelling at a group of men harassing a woman, this was probably the result. That she would seek out an altercation in her current situation bespoke of how much she had drank. She never could leave well enough alone. 

Shiloh braced herself on the counter, she’d been in worse shape, the scars that littered her body, despite her being primarily a healer were a testament to that. The difference was that in the past she could mend herself, or if she’d depleted too much of her own mana, there was an ally nearby to bolster her until she could take care of herself. While she healed she unconsciously sent streams of magic through her body to help manage pain, her recovery time was typically short, and because of that she rarely had to stop in her duties to convalesce. Even with the two potions her benefactor had left her she felt everything. She stood up straight and laid a hand on her ribs, focused on the familiar cool energy of her healing magic, something that up until recently came to her as naturally as breathing. Immediately her nerves lit up in screaming pain, the sound of breaking glass filled her mind, the feeling of being ripped apart from the inside stopped her hand. She made it to the toilet and retched, regular stinking bile, not the tainted light from the First. Her forked tail whipped behind her as frustrated tears stung her injured eye. 

“Well done, hero.” She sneered at herself. 

She showered until there was no more hot water to be had, sitting on the floor of the shower watching the water spiral down the drain replaying Y’shtola and Krile’s words. 

_"I can see no blockage or anything physically wrong with you or your Aether, my friend. Though I would encourage you to return to the Source and consult with Krile, she might have insights I don’t."_

Krile had been of even less help. 

_"I agree with Y’shtola’s assessment, there is nothing physically wrong, though, everyone’s response to trauma is different. Not all wounds are physical in nature. Stop. Rest._ _I’m afraid time is the only treatment in this instance."_

Shiloh grit her teeth, brought her thumbs to the bridge of her nose, took a breath, and set the break, biting back a whimper. The cooling shower washed away the fresh blood and tears. 

She emerged from the bathroom looking and feeling slightly better. The borrowed shirt stubbornly refused to stay on her shoulders and she was constantly pulling it back up. She made her way to the sitting room she’d spied earlier. A fireplace, a couch, two woefully empty bookshelves, a futon folded neatly by the wall. The wall nearest to the staircase leading upstairs displayed impressive violet armor in a style she could only describe as draconic, adorning an armor stand, next to it a wall mounted lance. Shiloh crossed her arms, having figured out who E was. Estinien. The armor and the lance were different from what he’d worn and used in their sojourn across Dravania, but she recognized it from her echo vision of his time in Garlemald, Iceheart and Nidhogg. She heard movement upstairs, a door opening and closing, heavy footsteps, some clanging, and then footfalls down the steps. Speak of the devil. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Estinien wore a similar shirt to the one he’d leant Shiloh, though it fit much better, paired with a pair of worn leather trousers, and matching boots. His long white hair was tied in a loose tail. Though it was his face that struck Shiloh as different, he was at ease, relaxed, his dark circles were still present but far less pronounced. He looked healthy..content, it suited him. 

“It appears I have you to thank for that, again.” Shiloh crossed her arms, and offered a forced smile. 

“You seem to be making it a habit.” Estinien stepped forward, though they gave each other a wide berth. An awkward silence settled between them that stretched with unasked questions on both sides. “Hungry?” 

“Famished.” 

He went back up the stairs and Shiloh followed, the main floor was as bright and airy as the basement, even more so, it was open concept kitchen and dining, with comfortable look chairs set by a window. The sun was high in the sky, and the windows were open letting in a cool breeze and the cicada and birdsong. 

“I wasn’t sure of your preferences so I got a selection.” He pointed to the carefully wrapped boxes laid out on the kitchen counter, likely from a local eatery. “It’s mostly Hingan fare, but I do have coffee.”

“Coffee sounds perfect right now, thanks.” Shiloh accepted the plate Estinien handed to her, and filled it, she was well and truly famished. Estinien joined her a moment later at the small wooden table. 

The tense air returned as they forced idle chit chat, something she knew Estinien hated, she hated it as well, but she was in no mood to talk about what he wanted to know, her shame, guilt, and anger simmered just under the surface. She wasn’t comfortable discussing her own shortcomings or weaknesses, let alone with someone who had shunned her for the better part of three years, the sting of that rejection still hurt, she’d thought they were friends. Him acting like a friend while they ate, felt like salt in the wound. She ate slowly, noting how much of the food had a soft texture. She rubbed her bruised jaw, feeling annoyed at the thoughtfulness rather than grateful. She finished her coffee, then busied herself clearing the dishes, turning her back to him while she rinsed them. Shiloh could feel his eyes on her back, her tail whipped under the borrowed shirt. 

“I thought you busy with business in Eorzea and on the First, what brings you to Kugane?” Estinien’s voice stifled a yawn, and Shiloh heard the snaps and pops of his spine. 

“I’ve been ordered to rest.” 

Estinien chuckled,”Interesting way to rest.” 

“I’ve never been good with idle hands, or idle thoughts.” She turned the faucet on and added some dish soap, watching the rise of the bubbles. “Tataru’s been getting better at thwarting my efforts to keep myself busy in Eorzea, including getting Raubahn, and Kan-E on her side. I was turned away from the medic tents at Ghimlyt. So I came to Kugane.” Shiloh started washing the dirty dishes.

“Last night’s display has me reluctantly agreeing with Tataru, that was a sad showing, my friend.” Shiloh felt heat rise on her face, to have failed so spectacularly, in front of Estinien no less, was a shame she would not soon live down. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” She heard the scrape of his chair and the creek of the wooden floors under his weight as he stepped towards her, he grabbed a dishcloth and started drying. 

She felt Estinien’s eyes on her, but she didn’t meet them, focusing instead on cleaning and tidying the meal’s mess.“Seems I fucked up.” 

“That’s an understatement. That should never have been a fight, let alone a fight you would lose.” He grabbed another grilled squid from one of the boxes just as Shiloh was putting it away. 

“Everyone has off days, Estinien, even the vaunted Warrior of Light.” There was no hiding the bitterness of her voice when she used her title. 

Estinien nodded slowly as if considering her answer, taking a thoughtful bite. His scrutiny unnerved her, she ignored the tremble in her arms, busying herself putting the dishes and leftovers away. Estinien was far more perceptive then he let on, since their first meeting his quiet intensity had a way of disarming her; Shiloh always felt the pretender in her role as hero, but next to Estinien she felt downright inadequate. His approval had been integral to her embracing her role, his confidence in her, a cherished prize, his friendship, a gift she never felt worthy of, and with his withdrawal she was convinced he’d only ever behaved the way he did out of duty, and necessity, the friendship nothing but a fabrication she’d created for herself. The longer he watched her, the more she felt exposed, that he could see right through to her weak and frightened heart. 

Distracted, her grip failed and a plate slipped from her fingers, shattering. The sound, loud, like broken glass was enough to send her reeling on the floor, covering her horns with her hands. In an instant she was back at the top of Mount Gulg, her senses muddled as if she was underwater, hearing nothing but the shattering of her soul. She scratched and tore at her arms and face trying to stop the burning she felt. She whimpered and cried on the floor like a frightened animal, kicking, and kicking, trying to escape the lightwarden so determined to claw out of her flesh. Blind panic lashing out at the invisible. 

There was a voice in the fog, “Shiloh, easy, it’s over, whatever you’re seeing and feeling, it’s over and can’t hurt you.” Shiloh squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing was quick and hard through her nose. She felt a weight on her shoulder, she shied from it, pulling away and tried to make herself smaller, folding in on herself. The weight returned, softly, on her back rubbing in slow circles, “breath, slowly, breath Shiloh. You’re safe.” 

Shiloh tried opening her eyes but she couldn't see, one eye wouldn't open, and the other had water in it, tears she would realize later, “can’t see…” Her voice was high and panicked. 

The voice, deep and calm kept talking, she caught half of what it said but the sound helped, something touched her face, and she flinched from it, but it persisted, wiping at her face, “try opening your eyes now.” She did, and this time it worked, though one of her eyes still wouldn’t open all the way, she was met with Estinien’s face writ with calm concern, he gave her an encouraging smile, “good, do you know who I am?” 

“‘Stinien…”Shiloh managed over a tongue that felt too big for her mouth. 

“That’s right, do you know where you are?” Estinien wiped away any new tears from her right eye that might obscure her vision, Shiloh looked around, recognizing the bright little kitchen of Estinien’s house.

“Your house?” 

Estinien nodded at her answer, “Can I pick you up, and move you? There’s broken plate all over the floor, and your legs and feet have some scratches.” He picked up a shard of one of the plates they had eaten from a few minutes earlier to show her the source of the noise she’d heard. Shiloh wet her lips, and gave him a short nod. The hand that had been rubbing circles on her back stopped and slid to gently grip at her shoulder and arm, the other, which had been wiping away her tears, reached beneath her knees lifting her. “Easy does it.” Estinien spoke and Shiloh buried her face and horn into his chest, the tenor of his voice grounding her to the present. 

Estinien brought her outside, and set her down on a wooden chair on a deck overlooking a small waterfall, the sound of moving water drew her attention. It was a warm day but a cool breeze cut through the heat rustling the leaves of the trees. Cicadas hummed their song, and the warm scent of plant, earth and the nearby salt of the Ruby sea filled her nostrils. She was bone tired as if she’d just fought a primal, her arms and legs still shook in the aftermath of her flashback. Estinien knelt in front of her, making a point of catching her eyes before he spoke. 

“I’m going back inside to sweep up the mess and get my first aid kit. I’ll be back in a moment.” Shiloh gave him another short nod to acknowledge she’d heard him. 

Shiloh glanced down at her legs after Estinien went back inside and counted a half dozen cuts. “Stupid.” She tucked them into the too big borrowed shirt, and hugged her knees, wanting nothing more than to disappear. She leaned her head on her knees and watched the waterfall, cataloging all the ways she was a failure, all the ways she was a burden, and all the ways she was quite possible Hydealyns biggest mistake. The deep shame she felt renewed her tears, the knot in her throat painful from keeping her sobs from breaking through. She fisted her hands into the cloth of the shirt, hating herself, shaking with silent cries.


	3. Accord - Estinien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiloh and Estinien come to an agreement.

Estinien was quick but thorough in his cleaning, once finished, he bounded down the stairs two at a time, to get to his first aid kit. Being Ishgardian, and a soldier besides he was no stranger to Shiloh’s current affliction. He, to this day, wrestled with his own demons, though he managed far better then he did three years ago. He suspected Shiloh’s refusal or inability to use her magic was tied to her own struggle. Whatever happened to her on the First had left deep scars. 

He closed the door quietly, but ensured the latch made enough noise so that his presence didn’t startle her. She’d folded in on herself again, making herself as small as she could, hiding in his shirt, her ivory tail swaying behind her. Her short blonde hair tousled by the wind. He cleared his throat, and she lifted her head to look towards him. He offered her a small glass of water, and noted the tremor in her arms when she reached for it. He remained kneeling, watching her, ready to catch the glass should it slip. 

“Thank you.” her voice barely broke a whisper. He nodded and took the glass from her, setting it down on the table. 

He opened the first aid kit, grabbing antiseptic and gauze to clean the cuts on her legs, they were not deep, but he wanted to ensure no porcelain shards had stayed in her skin. 

“I’m going to need one of those.” He crouched balancing on the balls of his feet and nodded towards her hidden legs. She adjusted and gave him one, emerging from the tent of his shirt. He caught her by the ankle and got to work cleaning the cuts. “How long?” 

Shiloh didn’t answer, looking away from him, and burying her head. There was no hiding the blush, what he saw of her shoulders were splotchy and red, she shook with each breath, trying to master her tears.

“I had my first flashback leaving Ishgard crossing the Steps of Faith, I sat in that ruble crying like a child for Halone knows how long, I’m lucky I didn’t lose any fingers or toes to the cold. That damned bridge, even now crossing it…..is painful.” Estinien cleaned the bits of porcelain, and streaks of blood. Shiloh shifted, turning her head so that her good eye looked out at him over her knee. “Nightmares plagued me, my dragoon training abandoned me. I became afraid, I...couldn't jump.” 

“ _You_ , couldn't jump?” Her voice was still shaky and quiet, but she was talking which was promising.

“Aye, It wasn’t so much the jumping that frightened me, it was the fall afterwards.” He gave her a rueful smile. 

“but...I saw, I felt...Estinien, you are stronger than you’ve ever been, how?” Shiloh lifted her head, wiping away an errant tear. 

Estinien grunted, tapping her heel and nodded towards her other leg, which she provided. “You first.” Shiloh pressed her lips together, avoiding his eyes whenever he looked at her, her fingers worried at the scales on her hands, he stopped his ministrations and covered her still trembling hand with his own, she took hold of it and squeezed. She took a tremulous breath. 

“The nightmares started shortly after the assault on the Praetorium, all those years ago, but it wasn’t every night, it was manageable, I could distract myself well enough. But a couple of nights after I defeated Emet-Selch, they started in earnest, every night, vivid, they stay with me longer, and I haven't been without one in as much time.” She clears her throat, “My first….episode, was in the midst of battle, in a place called the Grand Cosmos, I..I tried to channel an attack, and I could swear I started to transform all over again, scared the twins half to death with my thrashing and screaming.” She furrowed her brow and hugged herself with her free hand, “I haven't been able to cast so much as a simple Cure spell since without turning into this...mess.” She chanced a look at him, through wet lashes, “this is the first time anything other than trying to cast magic has caused this kind of reaction.” 

She sat up, both legs free from their hiding place, their hands rested gently in her lap. “Alphinaud saved me from being plant food. He kept me safe, saw me out of the fog, just like you.”

“Hmm, good lad.” He couldn't help the proud smile. 

“He’s grown so much since our little adventure, I think he would impress you.” Shiloh smiled warmly thinking of their mutual friend. 

“Alphinaud has impressed me on many occasions since our little adventure, as you call it. Though I never expected him to travel to Garlemald alone, I’m surprised you allowed that.” 

“I suppose Baelsar would have told you.” Shiloh said. Estinien sat back on his haunches, Shiloh still had a vice grip on his hand, he wouldn’t let go until she was ready. 

“Aye.” 

“It wasn’t my place to stop him, he...it was something he needed to do. If...when they wake, you should visit him, you inspire him. I know he misses you.” She pulled her hand away, reluctantly, and pushed her hair behind her horn. 

“If I inspired him, it was only so that he could impress you. I think the boy is half in love with the way he trails after you.” Estinien gently took up the leg he had yet to finish cleaning by the ankle, and went back to work. 

“Be nice, he’s not here to defend himself.” She admonished him gently,”besides Alphinaud’s like a younger brother to me, I don’t want to think about him like that.” She kicked him lightly, and Estinien chuckled, she was smiling and her voice had begun to even out, both good signs. 

“It’s something of a theme isn’t it? The trail of lovesick fools you leave in your wake.” She kicked him harder, he wobbled but remained upright, balance was a dragoon's first lesson. 

He noted the flush traveled from her chest to her shoulder and to her face, she looked away. “Let them be lovesick. If I’ve learned anything these past years it’s that hero worship is hardly the basis for a relationship. I’m hardly a catch, and they're fools if they can't see that.” She pointed at her bruised face, Estinien could find nothing objectionable about it, grunting in answer instead.

“Is that what happened between you and Aymeric? Hero worship?” The question escaped him before he could stop it. He scowled, “you need not answer that, none of my business.” 

Shiloh shook her head gently, a sad smile on her face,“in part, there was no living up to the woman he’d built up in his mind, and...I would have made a poor politician's wife.” He finished applying a bandage to her knee and looked at her. 

“I’m sorry.” She said

“What for?”

“Hurting Aymeric, he’s your closest friend, isn’t he? I understand if your loyalty is to him.” 

“Aymeric is a man grown, old enough to make his own choices, live with his own mistakes, and mend his own heart, I warned him you were a poor match, but he was too enamoured to listen to reason.” Estinien finished cleaning her leg and took the seat opposite Shiloh. “I’m not so naive as to think every romance has a happy ending, you have naught to apologize for...About Aymeric at least.” 

Shiloh watched him, averting her gaze whenever he turned towards her. “Noted.” 

There was a coolness to her voice, Estinien was sure he said something to upset her, but for the life of him he didn’t know what. However uncomfortable it was to hear, it was true, if she and Aymeric had been a good match, they’d have been married by now. 

“Master Estinien?” A small Hyur woman stood by the gate with a basket of folded clothing. 

“Hiyoshi.” He went to fetch the basket, digging out some coin from his coin purse to pay the laundress. 

* * *

  
  


Shiloh moved with more confidence in her own clothes, as much her armor, as his own set was to him. She zipped the tall black leather boots that added ilms to her height, and started searching the pockets of her dark violet coat. 

“What will you do?” He asked while watching her, she looked the part of the hero again, a far cry from the vulnerability he’d witnessed a few short hours earlier, though it was still odd not to see her staff on her back, the magicked living branch that channeled so much of her strength. Safe at the Rising Stones she told him when he asked. Estinien couldn’t imagine Nidhogg being so far from him, though given her condition, he could understand wanting the distance. 

“Get out of your hair. Grab a room, try to make contact with my friends in troupe Falsiam.” Her brow furrowed as she dug into inner and outer pockets, how many did the coat have?

Estinien sat up, more questions born from her answer. “You came to Kugane with just the clothes on your back, to learn how to...dance?” 

“You know of them?” Shiloh stopped her search, and looked at him in disbelief.

“I’ve seen the flyers, a group from Thanvair.” Estinien had his doubts, he couldn’t quite imagine Shiloh dancing let alone in the traditional garb they wore, all bells and wisps of silk. Not especially practical. 

“Truth is I came to Kugane with a full pack to continue to learn how to dance. My lessons started before I left for the First, last time I was ordered to rest. Pack got stolen shortly before we met up.” She became increasingly agitated, shaking her coat, before resuming checking the pockets, “Did you take the coin purse out of my coat? It’s not where I left it.” 

“I emptied the pockets before sending it to be laundered, I found nothing.” Estinien narrowed his eyes, “though your damsel in distress was quick to discard your coat and disappear as soon as the sekisegumi whistles started, last night.”

The play of emotions that crossed Shiloh face was myriad, her hands balled into fists, then released, he noted her tail whipping. She took a long deep breath, “of course. Gods, Tataru won’t let me hear the end of this.” She fell into a chair defeated, and put her head in her hands. Out of money and stranded in Kugane, and apparently at the mercy of the Scion’s receptionist, it was almost comical, were it not for the miserable look on Shiloh’s face. 

“Why would Tataru object to dance lessons? Seems a harmless enough activity.” 

Shiloh laugh was mirthless, “because it’s not harmless, while the dance is beautiful to watch, it was born from a deadly fighting technique. Their accessories, the chakrams, are made of folded steel, the outer rings are bladed, they're a ranged weapon, and...Tataru now knows this, she won’t fall for my lie again. If I reach out for help, the most she’ll arrange is a ticket back to Eorzea, I have no doubt she knows Troupe Falsiam is in Kugane. She’ll know what I’m doing, if she doesn’t already.” 

Estinien crossed his arms and considered his friend, “diversifying your skill set in the absence of magic, a good idea. Even if you weren't in your current predicament, having a martial skill to fall back on makes you unpredictable, and enhances your presence on the battlefield.” 

“That was my thought, but it's not rest. I’m not supposed to be training.” Shiloh pushed back on her chair. “Never mind the moment Zenos, or Elidibus discover my vulnerability they will attack. I seem to be the only person on two stars who sees this as a problem.” She stood up, and began pacing, her frustration palpable. 

“You underestimate the alliance leaders.”

“Hien almost died, Lyse almost died, as did Yugiri, they are, all three of them, peerless warriors, and they fell against Elidibus in a borrowed body.”

Estinien raised his arms in a placating motion, “I won’t deny the seriousness of the threats, I am in agreement. I ask you this, given time, say, a moon, two moons, would you be able to master this dancing technique? Would you be strong enough to face Zenos in a second duel? Or Elidibus? Could you beat me?” 

Shiloh grit her teeth, “No, but there is a rumour I mean to pursue, if there's any truth to it, I may tip the scales back in my favour.” She stopped her pacing when she caught his skeptical look and sat back down, defeated, “I can’t just do nothing.”

“Healing is not nothing.” Estiniens took on a softer tone, “would you tell one of your patients to go back to work the day after a surgery, would you have told me to pick up my lance so quickly after Nidhogg was torn from my soul? Did you not hear a word I spoke earlier.”

“That’s not….No of course not, but-”

“Your injury is no less serious. That it isn’t physical has no bearing on the importance of your convalescence.” 

“So, I’m just supposed to sit around and what? Restart my conjury training making flowers grow and shaping rocks, pushing past the pain and panic in the hopes of rebuilding my magical base. I was at Stillfane Glade for three years learning from the Padjals. You and I both know my enemies, Eorzea’s enemies, hell the enemies of this star won’t give me that luxury. I can’t just take off and disappear like you can, Estinien.” Shiloh flung the words at him, and he flinched.

“And travelling halfway around the world to get black out drunk and pick fights you can’t win is helping the situation?” Estinien’s own anger tinged his response. 

“What would you have me do? Go back to Eorzea with my tail between my legs and wallow in self pity? Sitting and waiting has never been my strength.” Shiloh asked, anger flaring in turn. “Did you know, the First had five Warriors of Light. Five. Each one of them crystal bearers. Before the calamity, people spoke of Warriors of Light, plural. Since finding my crystal, and being chosen by Hydealyn five years ago I have met exactly one other Crystal Bearer, Ysayle...And Twelve keep her, but she can’t help me. It’s just me, there is no one else to weather these storms. There is no respite for me.” Her bitterness, and anger was evident, and Estinien's guilt whispered to him of his own cowardice, of how many times he simply left the troubles of the world in Shiloh's hands, not giving a thought to what she suffered.

“You can have the floor, I have a futon you can use.” Estinien leaned forward on his chair, “train in your dancing, practice your conjury, the idea still holds merit, do what you set out to do, but do it where an ally and friend can keep an eye on you to ensure you don’t get yourself killed, you’ve never been good at self-preservation either.” Estinien had a half formed idea and pressed on.

“Estin-” Shiloh started 

“-We’re equals, you and I, and you know it, especially in the absence of the Scions. If while you recover, an emergency should appear, and you aren't yet ready to fight, I will fight in your stead, if you have regained some but not all of your ability, then I will fight beside you. I may not have a crystal of light, or Hydealyn’s blessing, but this, I can do. You aren't alone.” How quick he was to toss aside his hard won peace for her.

“And if it’s a Primal? Estinien, I can’t ask this of you.” 

“In Mor Dhona, you not only saw, but felt what I am capable of in your echo vision. Is it not enough?” Shiloh looked away. Estinien stood not letting her retreat from him, and when she looked everywhere but at him, he finally took her chin in his hands and forced her eyes to meet his, his frustration at her palpable. “Is my strength not enough?” 

“I can’t risk you.” Her voice was quiet, pleading. not answering.

“It’s not your choice to make, I would share this burden with you. You risked everything to save me, this is nothing.” Estinien released her chin when Shiloh appeared on the verge of tears, again. Shit. 

Shiloh bit her lip, tears catching on her eyelashes, and nodded her head, “fine. We’ll try it your way.” She raised a finger at him, “no primals, not alone, I don’t care how weak I am right now, the last thing this world needs is you made into a thrall.” 

Estinien chuckled, “agreed, if there is a primal threat, you protect me from tempering, and I’ll protect you from the rest.” 

“Deal.” Shiloh stuck her hand out, and Estinien took it in a firm shake, “I still don’t have a gil to my name.” 

“Well, lucky for us, for the first time in a very long time, I do. I’m sure I can loan you some, though, I charge interest.” 

“Of course you do.” Shiloh rolled her eyes at him, with a half cocked smile. 

Estinien didn’t exactly relish having a roommate, let alone a desperate and unstable Warrior of Light, but he would not abandon her, not again. While he’d been there to protect her at Ghimlyt, and ostensibly the previous night, he was nowhere near repaying what she’d done for him. He understood something of the pain she was in, and knew leaving her to her own devices would do more harm than good. More than ever she needed a friend and a safe place to lay her head, he could offer both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three chapters were written all together in one big monster chapter that I decided to break into smaller pieces. I'm hoping to keep up my momentum, but posting may slow down. Chapter 4 is nearly done, and should be up on Wednesday.


	4. Not Alone - Shiloh

Shiloh conceded, albeit reluctantly, that at the very least, her ribs would need to heal before engaging in any dancing. Estinien gave her a pouch of gil, a loan, he stressed, and shooed her out the door with vague instructions for her to get herself whatever sundry items she needed, and to grab some food at the market. They parted with him heading towards the hunt board, and Shiloh towards the market stalls. Not comfortable with indebting herself to anyone, Shiloh was careful to only buy the necessities, sleep clothes, small clothes, loose trousers, a handful of simple tank tops, a pair of shorts, a loose ala mighan gown, and some sandals. Hardly adventuring gear, but easy to move in and comfortable, perfect for dancing. 

Her next stop was the apothecary, unlike the raised stalls of the market proper, the apothecary was a traditional shop. A bell tinkled when she pushed through the door, an incensory was burning on the counter, sandalwood. The dark wooden walls were lined with pre-mixed potions and poultices, behind the counter a wall of small drawers Shiloh knew to be filled with raw ingredients. 

“Welcome, traveller, how may I help you?” A Hingan woman of middling years wearing a traditional blue Haori greeted her with a bow. She winced when Shiloh turned towards her, “perhaps a poultice for her hurts?” 

Shiloh touched her cheek, the swelling was coming down, her left eye could open and close properly again, but her sclera was still stained red. The bruise, though healing, was ugly, sickly yellow mixing with the purple and blue. “Yes, please. Moko grass too, if you have any in stock, an onze. For the pain.” 

The shopekeep came around the counter, putting on a pair of glasses that sat low on her nose, she pinched Shiloh chin between two fingers, tilting her head to get a closer look at the bruises, nodding after her inspection, and directing Shiloh to the counter. She got to work, opening and closing drawers, pulling out ingredients, some familiar, some not. Shiloh had spent some time studying pharmacology, but, due to her reliance on magical healing, her knowledge had lapsed in the years since leaving Stillfane Glade. Still she watched with interest as the ingredients filled the mortar, and then were pounded into a pungent paste with the pestle. The shop keep filled a jar, and then pulled out five lengths of linen. She grabbed a tin of moko grass and weighed out an onze, putting Shiloh’s order in another jar.

“Apply before bed until there is none left, this is five days worth. If there’s still a visible bruise after five days, full refund!” She began wrapping the jars and linen in a raw blue silk bag.

“I’ve heard a rumour, mayhap you know something of it.” Shiloh pulled out her borrowed coin purse and began counting out the owed gil.

“What rumour? There are many rumours in Kugane.” 

“I’ve heard talk of aetherically enhanced potions. Potions that can grant magical ability where previously there was none.” Shiloh counted five extra coins as she spoke, ignoring the little voice chastising her for spending Estinien's gil in such a way, but depending on the answer... 

The shop keep eyed the coin, “you speak of the Doctor's concoctions.” She made a spitting sound. “A Garlean peddling snake oil.” She leaned forward, “he preys on the desperate, his poisons are worse than somnus. His shop is constantly moving to avoid the anger and desperation of his cheated patients. If you’re smart, you will stay away.” She gathered her gil, leaving the bribe on the table. “If you need good medicine, you come to old Michiru, advice is free.” 

Shiloh swept all but one of the coins into her hands and gathered her package, she gave Michiru the Apothecary a short bow, “Thank you, aunty.” 

Michiru snorted, but smiled and bowed as Shiloh pushed through the heavy door back into the street, the bell tinkling behind her. 

She squinted in the sunlight after the darkness of the shop. A Garlean doctor, more than likely a scientist, the patients, research subjects, maybe. Creating magical ability where previously there was none did sound like a distinctly Garlean research topic, the questions being, why in Kugane, and not Garlemald, and had he encountered any success-

“-Shiloh!” Shiloh was shocked out of her thoughts by an exuberant hug. It took a moment for her to register who the Miqo’te hugging her was, “what brings you to Kugane?” Ranaa Mhigo. “Oh, what happened to you?” 

“Ranaa,” Shiloh returned the hug, wincing, “got into a bit of a disagreement,” she extricated herself from Ranaa’s hold, “gently.” Ranaa’s ears bobbed in excitement, her smile infectious. “I came to Kugane looking for you and the rest of the troupe, seems providence was with me today.” 

The lithe keeper took up half of Shiloh’s packages, and linked arms, “come, let’s have a snack, and you can tell me all about what’s happened since last we met. Whatever you need from the troupe, I’m sure we will be able to provide. Oh Nashmeira will be so pleased to see you again!, Everyone will, I have so missed partnering with you.” 

Shiloh smiled, letting Ranaa chatter happily while they wound their way through the market crowds making their way towards one of the many tea houses. Once settled at a table, with a cup of tea and some dango, Shiloh gave Ranaa the abridged version of her travels, her bright violet eyes going wide when she learned of Shiloh visiting a separate shard. She mentioned Guard captain Lyna, and the similarities of their respective disciplines. 

Shiloh was explaining how she was robbed, and how she came to have her injuries when Estinien’s gravel interrupted her story, “there you are.” 

“My, my, and who is this handsome gentleman, Shiloh?” Ranaa asked, the implication clear as day in her tone. 

Shiloh twisted towards Estinien, he smirked at her, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. She cleared her throat. 

“Right, Ranaa, this is Estinien Wyrmblood, he’s an old friend who’s been kind enough to offer me a place to stay while I’m in the city.” She emphasized the word friend, giving Ranaa a meaningful look. “Estinien, this is my friend Ranaa Mhigo, principal dancer of Troupe Fasiam.” 

Ranaa inclined her head towards Estinien, “a pleasure.” Estinien nodded and grunted. “Charming.” She winked at Shiloh and stood. “My break is nearly over, why don’t you stop by the theatre tomorrow, I’ll have your name added to the backstage list, and Nashmeira will set you up with new chakram, and whatever else you need to continue your training.” Shiloh stood with her, and Ranaa kissed each of her cheeks in a friendly farewell. 

  
  


“Get everything you need?” Estinien asked, stealing the last piece of dango from Shiloh’s plate. 

Shiloh gathered her parcels, “mmhmm, just missing some ingredients for dinner. How was hunting?” 

Estinien jangled a bag of gil, and spoke around his mouthful, “fruitful.” 

  
  
  


Back in Shirogane Shiloh stood over the stove, stirring, the risotto fragrant and creamy. She sipped at her glass of white wine, mind circling back to what she learned at the apothecary, and wondered at the Doctors motives, it could very well be strictly monetary, but somehow it felt inadequate, she’s encountered enough Garlean scientists, and engineers to know that their motives are almost never monetary. Using the poor, and desperate addicts to further research felt more likely. Having seen, and fought against the fruits of Garlean research left her with a deep sense of foreboding, was it by order of a Legatus in a bid to undermine Hingashi, or was he operating independently, she couldn’t decide which possibility was worse, only that her doing nothing wasn’t an option. She grated cheese into the pot with more force then was entirely necessary, nicking her finger. Shiloh cursed, and sucked on the small cut on her finger. 

Estinien emerged from the basement, freshly showered, long hair still damp, he poured himself a glass of wine, and looked over her shoulder at their dinner. “Risotto, I thought you said you were making simple fare.” 

“It is simple, just needs to be watched.” She gave it a stir, tasted it, satisfied with the flavour and doneness she served up two plates of seafood risotto, grating more cheese over each plate before handing Estinien his dinner. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a culinarian.” He took a bite, and made a contented sound in the back of his throat. 

“Would you believe that once upon a time, before the Calamity, I apprenticed at the Bismark?” Shiloh dug into her own meal, the flavours brought back memories of sitting around her childhood kitchen table, her brother telling her of a distant port, their mother telling him to slow down lest he choke on his food in his enthusiasm. The strings of her heart pulled tight, and she smiled, biting into a scallop. 

“You never once made a meal during our foray into Dravania, you were holding out on us.” Estinien scraped rice and crab from the edge of his plate, letting no morsel go to waste. 

“Ysayle insisted, and you and Alphinaud kept me busy with hunting and sparring, besides I prefer cooking in a well stocked kitchen over a cookfire in the wilderness.” Shiloh eyed Estinien as he got up for seconds. 

“What other talents have you kept hidden?” He asked, sitting back down with a fresh plate, attacking his food with the same voraciousness as he did with his first serving. 

“I can curl my tongue, and move all of my toes independently.” She finished her own food and sat back hiding her lopsided grin behind her glass of wine, Estinien paused long enough to raise an eyebrow at her and smirk. 

That Estinien enjoyed his meal this much brought warmth to her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d properly cooked for anyone, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d given someone so simple a gift. The people around her told her without words that she was above such simple joys, that the Warrior of Light was meant for more. She couldn’t remember when she stopped cooking, or singing, or dancing, for the simple joy of it, it was selfish wasn’t it, and there was no room for selfishness in what she did, there was nothing useful to be gained in frivolousness. She drained her glass. 

“You’re thinking again.” Estinien sat back in his chair, rubbing his stomach and stretching, sated. 

“Happens sometimes, incredible I know.” Shilohs blinked her eyes, she’d been staring into space, lost in her thoughts.

Estinien cleared the table, depositing the dishes in the sink, and turned towards her, “take a walk with me, there’s something I would show you.” 

“The dishes-”

“-can wait.” Estinien put on a simple pair of sandals. Shiloh slipped her own on and followed him out the door. 

The sky was painted in shades of pink and red, the sea was still, glowing in jewel tones. They veered off the packed dirt road onto a trail, heading towards the shore, but away from the larger, more crowded beach. The trail hardly deserved the name, goat path fit better, wild nettles and rocks littered the way, Shiloh picked up her feet careful not to trip. 

“Estinien-”

“Almost there.” He looked over his shoulder at her, the shifting sunlight caught in his unbound hair, haloing him in soft pink light. 

Shiloh huffed a little breath and nodded, her throat dry. Estinien was an attractive man, there was no denying it, his cantankerous nature however meant he wasn’t overly popular in Ishgard, not in the same way the Fortemps brothers or Aymeric were.Though giving it some thought cantankerous no longer felt an honest description. He’s been nothing but gentle with her, firm, but gentle, she didn’t know how to feel about this side of him, nature insisting on painting him in shades of sunset only added to the disquiet in her gut. 

They crested a dune between two large rock formations to a small beach, it lacked the silky white sand of the main beach, it was coarser, strewn with bits of driftwood and dried seaweed. But the sunset was no less spectacular. 

“A private beach.” Shiloh breathed 

“Among other things.” Estinien kicked off his sandals.

Shiloh did the same, “What other things?” Estinien answered only with a knowing smirk, nodding towards the rock face. It took a moment for her to realize the rather large cave mouth hiding in plain sight, her lips opened in silent surprise. 

“Come on.” He went inside, and Shiloh followed, intrigued. 

Round a corner was a raised natural pool with steam rolling from the surface, another cave mouth opened into the ocean at eye level with the pool, framing the picturesque ruby sea in all it’s evening glory. Shiloh approached the pool, and dipped her hand in the water, it was hot but not too hot. 

“A natural hot spring.” She looked back at Estinien with a delighted smile. 

“Aye.” He set his sandals down, and rolled up his trouser legs, climbing the short ledge finding a comfortable place to sit and dipped his feet in the steaming water. He exhaled softly, closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the rock wall. “When I find myself thinking of things I’d rather not be thinking of, I come here.” He opened his eyes and tilted his head towards her, “it’s peaceful. I thought… you might appreciate such a retreat.” 

Shiloh put her sandals down next to Estiniens, and looked for another ledge she might perch from. Estinien sensing her intent shifted from his spot, making room beside him. He offered his hand which she took and climbed up beside him. She dipped her feet in the water, the heat was delicious, and she couldn’t stop the contented little moan she made.

“This is...I do..appreciate it, I can see why you like it.” Shiloh moved her legs in gentle circles, “thank you for sharing it with me, it’s beautiful.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I don’t remember you being so nice.” Shiloh said, bumping him gently with her body. 

Estinien grunted, and glanced towards her, “don’t tell anyone, I’ve a reputation to maintain.”

Shiloh laughed softly and pretended to zip her mouth shut. They sat in companionable silence watching the sun dip below the horizon, the sky transitioning from scarlet to indigo, until the stars blanketed the sky accompanied by a sliver of moon. 

“Estinien?” She ventured, her voice felt loud in the silence. Estinien grunted in answer. 

“How did you get better?” the question bubbled up with a quiet voice tinged in desperate hope.

He shifted, the water around his legs sloshing as he turned towards her. “I didn’t.” 

“But-” 

“Those same demons are ever present, I’ve only become better at managing them.” He exhaled, and Shiloh watched his long fingers dip into the water, tracing fleeting circles, “as you will. The paralyzing fear, the desperation, the anger...you’re stronger, we’re stronger.”

“I don’t feel very strong.” Shiloh’s voice was small. Estinien continued watching the water. 

“Are you still afraid of falling?” She asked.

“Sometimes.” He tilted his head towards her, the curtain of his hair obscuring his face. 

“What do you do when you’re afraid?” Her voice was soft. 

Estinien sat up and straightened his back, he turned towards her finding her with his pale blue eyes, bright in the night, “I fall anyways.”

Shiloh exhaled, and she swung her feet out of the hotspring, she gently slid down the lip of the pool to the ground. Estinien followed behind.

“I’m sorry if my answers weren’t what you were hoping to hear.” His voice was soft but close, he was at her back, she could feel the heat of his presence. It was a comfort. 

“I don’t know what I was hoping to hear, you have nothing to apologize for.” She turned towards him with a sad smile. She saw how his fingers twitched, only to stop. 

“We should go, the trail is a pain to maneuver in the dark.” He slipped his sandals on and walked past her. Stopped mid stride, and extended his hand. “Best to stay close, come on.”

“Right.” 

Shiloh took Estinien’s hand and let him lead her out of the dark. 


	5. Lay Down Your Burden - Estinien

After living together for a fortnight, Estinien decided that their current arrangement wasn’t working. He needed order, he had a routine, he had a way of doing things and those habits were being interrupted, and despite his best efforts he could no longer ignore the effects it was having on him. 

He laid in bed, blinking away the last of his dream wondering at the state of his house guest sleeping in his living room. Would she be cocooned on the futon, buried in her blankets, a physical shield against her nightmares, or did she kick off her blankets in the night having grown too hot in her unconscious struggle. Would he be greeted with soft skin and ivory scales, and her maddeningly frilly camisole slipping from her shoulders again, or would she remain hidden, the only sign of life the tip of her tail? A knot of dread and anticipation settled low in his stomach and Estinine cursed himself again for taking her in, for exposing himself to her. Her nearness was a source of comfort and madness in equal measure. He scrubbed his face with his hands, her presence was encroaching on him, small reminders scattered all over his house, the step stool in the kitchen, the vase of flowers on the table, the second toothbrush, the moogle shaped bar of soap. Her possessions were filling the corner of his living room spilling to the floor and couch, he couldn’t abide clutter. It wasn’t her fault he reminded himself, she did her best to keep it organized, but the pile of bags, and boxes overflowing with bits of cloth both sundry and unmentionable had a way of setting him on edge. He found himself formulating a plan as he swung his legs out of bed, she needed her own space, a retreat, she needed her own room for both their sakes.

Her scent was the first thing to greet him when he walked out of his room, the salty sour scent of a body in need of washing, but underneath that was her, he couldn’t quite place it, but it was warm, sweet, and floral. His nostrils flared, and he almost wished for the return of the pungent, medicinal odor of her poultice, it made ignoring whatever it was he was feeling easier. She laid on her futon, curled on her side, one leg hooked on the top of the blankets, her forked tail twitched near imperceptibly. He eyed her scales from arm to hip to calf, he’d been surprised at their softness when he dressed her wounds when she first arrived, their smoothness akin to a snake, or a freshly hatched dragonet. Estiniens fingers twitched, her bright wheat blonde hair covered her face, and he wondered if it was peaceful or troubled. Would she welcome him if he slid in behind her, and held her sleep warmed body close to his. He turned his mind away from the fantasy, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Pathetic. 

Estinien ground his teeth and exhaled sharply, he turned his back on his sleeping friend. He strode to the other side of the room, pulled the bar he’d installed to the ceiling down, grasped it, and began his morning workout with chin ups. He worked himself hard, until the only scent he could smell was his own sweat, the only thing he could feel was the burning in his muscles, his only thoughts the counting of his reps, and the only thing he could hear was his own breathing. Soon enough the frustration and confusion melted away to his single minded purpose. He switched from chin ups to inverted sit ups, to squats, one armed push ups, and a punishing plank before he slipped into a pair of linen trousers and left the house for a run, finally ending his workout with drills, taking out whatever was left of his morning frustration on the wooden practice dummy. By the time he finished the sun had burned away the morning mist, and he felt like himself again. 

Upon his return, he was greeted with the scent of bacon frying in a pan, alongside eggs and sausage. The table was set with slices of bread in a basket covered in a checkered cloth, a bowl of cut fruit, a jar of marmalade and a jar of rolenberry jam. There was a towel draped on the back of his chair which he grabbed and used to wipe the sweat from his brow and neck. He moved to stand beside Shiloh, and watched the grease snap and sputter while she cooked, his stomach growled audibly, and he reached for one of the finished pieces of bacon sitting on a plate. Shiloh slapped his hand away without looking at him.

“It’s not done yet, you have time for a shower.” Shiloh finally glanced from the stove to him, nose wrinkled. Estinien tried for the bacon again, for him to be rebuffed again. “Go on, stinky, stop sweating all over the food.” 

“Aye, aye.” He relented, she watched him expectantly, not trusting him to not try a third attempted bacon snatching. Her eyes lingered on the large starburst shaped scars on his shoulder and forearm. Reminders of his folly and arrogance, proof of life and shame both. After three years he was as used to seeing them on his body as the other myriad of scars that marked his skin. If Shiloh had questions or wanted to touch them, from either personal or professional curiosity she never said, and that suited Estinien just fine. When he reached the stairs he removed the towel from around his shoulders and threw it at her, it hit her in the face. 

“Damnit Estinien!” She screeched, whipping the offending towel back only for him to duck down the steps while he chuckled to himself all the way to the shower. 

  
  


Shiloh was plating food, and the kettle was singing on the stove when he re-emerged. Estinien took it upon himself to fill the coffee press and take the cream out of the ice box, and the sugar from the pantry. They ate in silence, Estinien’s hunger putting any morning conversation on hold while he wolfed down his meal. 

Shiloh mopped any leftover grease and egg yolk up with a slice of bread, and Estinien absently tore and nibbled at the pith of the orange slices he’d finished his meal with. 

“I’ll be late tonight.” Shiloh said, finishing her bread.. 

“Last time you had a late night, it didn’t end well.” Estinien stood clearing the dishes from the table, she’d cooked after all. He jerked his head back to the chair indicating her to sit, when she moved to help.

“It’s nothing so dramatic as that, Nashmeira offered to pay me if I perform on stage with the rest of the troupe.” Shiloh, unable to remain still, closed the jars of jam, and swept the bread crumbs from the table into a little pile. “I’ll be able to repay your loan in a couple of weeks.” 

Estinien raised an eyebrow at her, skeptical.

  
  


“It’s just three nights a week, not the full schedule the rest of the troupe works. All my recent wounds are fully healed. I’m fine, it leaves plenty of time for....rest.” 

Estinien went back to the dishes with a derisive grunt. 

Shiloh sighed, “what do you take issue with?” 

“Your sense of justice.” 

“My sense of- And what’s that supposed to mean?” Shiloh’s tone was defensive. 

“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what it means.” Estinien plunged his hands into the hot soapy water, scrubbing the grease laden pan. 

“No Estinien, do enlighten me. How is taking on work in order to pay back what you are so keen to remind me is a loan going to be affected by my sense of justice?” Shiloh turned in her chair.

“Have you seen the crowds outside the theatre after performances? Has Ranaa told you that the security at the backstage door is new? Did she tell you why they took the security on?” Estinien stopped scrubbing the plate he was cleaning lest he break it. 

“Yes, she...she told me it was because some of the patrons were getting a little handsy in their enthusiasm. It’s not the first time I’d be dealing with drunken lechers. I can handle them.” Her voice faltered, she pursed her lips and looked past him, before turning her attention to the crumbs on the table. 

“Can you?” 

“Twelve preserve, it was one time! Besides I’d have my chakrams, and I wouldn’t be blind drunk, honestly Estinien, I’m not completely helpless.” Shiloh stood, incredulous, but it lacked sincerity.

“Show me.” He finally said.

“What?” 

“Show me that you can defend yourself. Show me my concern is misplaced.” Estinien put the last of the dishes on the dish rack. 

“You could try trusting me.” Shiloh said. 

Estinien’s immediate answer was a barked laugh, “I think not. That trust was wasted when you were soundly beaten to unconsciousness by a group of common thugs.” 

Shiloh’s lips pressed into a pale line. “You are not my keeper, and I don’t need your permission to take on a job, or live my life.” 

Estinien wanted to shake her for her stubbornness, he gripped his hands into fists to keep them from grasping her, “aye, and yet,” he stepped towards her, she backed up tripping into the table, it jostled the jars of jam, knocking one over. Estinien watched as it rolled to the edge, and for a split second thought to let it fall, and let the glass shatter if only to remind her of her weakness. Instead he lunged forward and bent to catch it, caging her with his body, “here you are.” 

Her eyes widened a fraction when she saw the jar he’d caught. She dropped his gaze, put some distance between them and crossed her arms. 

“Tell me, what happens when you are faced with the unexpected, and you find yourself incapacitated? What happens when they target Ranaa, or one of the other troupe members, will you let the security guards do their job, or will you do what you always do, and rush headlong to defend them?” Estinien let the jar he was holding slip, only to catch it again, Shiloh flinched. 

“You’ve made your point. What do you propose?” Shiloh eyed him wearily.

Estinien picked up the other jar and placed them both in the pantry, “a spar. Lance against chakram, show me you can defend yourself, and keep your head in a fight. Show me you can push through your fear if faced with it. I don’t care how well you fight if a broken plate, or bottle puts you in a panic and shuts you down.” 

“You mean to purposely trigger me?” Shiloh held herself tighter.

“If I need to, I mean to see where you stand.” Estinien canted his head to the side, “your demons will remain insurmountable if all you do is avoid them.” 

“And if I fail?” 

“Then, three nights a week I will meet you after your performance and see you safely home until you no longer need me.” Estinien approached her slowly, and rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently, reminded once again of how much smaller she was. “I do recall you impressing upon me the importance of your recovery, and that it happens swiftly. About time you started on the hard work, I think.” 

Shiloh worried her lower lip, Estinien noted the indents left by her teeth, and where she’d torn at the chapped skin, “fine.” She looked anything but. 

__

  
  


Estinien let her get used to the idea, let her know he would be at the market for a couple of bells and he would meet her at their private beach at midday. Repeated exposure in a controlled environment, it was the only method he knew, it was the self same method Hrasvelgr and his brood used on him, and so he would attempt it on Shiloh and hoped he wouldn’t make anything worse. She refused to discuss what happened to her on the first, and so he could only address what he saw with his own eyes, and after a broken plate and a broken glass he’d seen enough. 

He fished out his training lance, wooden, blunted, worse for wear, but still perfectly balanced. He dropped into a defensive stance and his fingers slipped into the smooth grooves his younger self had worn into the shaft. An old friend. 

The faintest sound of bells drifted along the path, growing louder and developing a rhythm the closer he drew. She was facing the ocean sending her chakrams against the waves, they weaved and skimmed along the water's surface like two silver terns. They dove and returned to their mistresses fingers only to be let loose again. Their mistress was as fluid as the waves they battled, her limbs and body moving in time with the tide. The bangles she wore set the pace. Estinien broke the enchantment by loudly clearing this throat, and dropping the bag he carried, the glasses inside banged together. Shiloh faltered, caught one chakram, but the other spun off her fingers going wide, skidding to a halt near Estiniens feet. 

“Ready?” he asked, picking up the stray ring. He tested its weight, and examined it with open curiosity. He wondered at the physics of Shiloh’s chosen weapon, before handing it back to her. 

“Yeah.” she answered, an octave too high, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. 

Her uncertainty and nervousness was jarring, she could have been a mirror to his past. Now, like then, was not the time for pity, or easy outs. He hardened himself, it was for her own good, she was stronger then she thought, but she needed to come to that realization on her own, honestly and without ego. He fell into the roll of instructor, commander, and regarded her as he would a raw recruit of the Knights Dragoon. He lowered himself into his ready stance and waited for her to come to him. 

Shiloh shifted from hip to hip, foot to foot, high on her toes, similar to a pugilist. Her weapons balanced on the tips of her fingers, and with the flick of her wrists they flew. Estinien was glad to see that despite her current predicament, she drew on her extensive experience in the field. She was quick, never staying in one place for very long, she sent her chakram to buffet him, sending them inside his reach, forcing his lance close to his body to parry and block. Where before her weapons were terns hunting on the water's surface, now they were magpies sent to harague and harass. Not a bad thought, but easy to read. He drew her out, let her get used to the easy back and forth, he didn't attack, choosing to observe and evaluate. She gave away her weaknesses, she lacked focus, she let her fear lead. He knew without raising his lance against her, she wasn’t ready for the test he had in mind, deciding in that moment that the glasses would remain whole in their burlap bag. He’d overestimated her.

He surged forward. She side stepped his attack, spinning out of reach, he was quick to react, chasing. Gone were the shields she would use to deflect, gone were the elements, and blinding light that were her traditional mainstays. As a result her movement needed to be faster to avoid his attacks, and she was flagging. He had her on the backstep in an instant, not letting up, forcing her back, back towards the rock wall. She pulled the twin fans from her belt, the feathers partitioned by wicked looking knives. She blocked and raked, and slipped out of his reach, only just. Her tenuous composure unravelled when he pushed back, her movements stiff, stuttered. 

“You’re going easy on me.” She panted out, dancing on her toes, resuming her chakram assault, her rhythm lost, discordant.

“And you think yourself above looking your adversary in the eye.” Estinien growled out, knocking a ring from the sky, sending it skittering into the sand. The other landed just out of her reach. “You give your position away by tracking your weapons, when your focus should be on me.” He pointed his lance at her, “you fight as if you have never stepped foot on a battlefield, I will fight in earnest when you stop hiding from me, or do you intend to continue wasting my time?” 

Shiloh answered with grit teeth and a heavy breath, the option to continue was hers, but she was at a distinct disadvantage. She either went to retrieve her rings, or she came in close with her fans, or she conceded defeat and tried again. The set of her face was desperate, angry, feral, baring teeth. Her frustration and wounded pride coloured her choices, robbing her of her good sense. The well reasoned, tactical force of nature she once was, had deserted her utterly. Estinien was struck at their similarities in character and frowned, maddening, stubborn woman. He resolved to end the spar quickly; he could offer her nothing when she succumbed to her own self pity and fear so readily and recklessly. 

Shiloh dashed to one of her rings, Estinien intercepted and was in her guard in the next breath, she blocked with her closed fans. He hooked his lance into the nearby chakram and flung it out of her reach again, she growled, narrowly avoiding his lance by rolling away. His next attack rid her of her fans and sent her falling on her rear, she scrambled back, trying to put distance between them, her hands reaching in the sand for anything she might use against him, until she reached the water. To her credit she kicked out, aiming just above his knee, and blocked his lance with her forearms when he aimed it at her throat. 

Estinien ignored the pang in his heart and knelt over her, the change in position robbed her of the use of her legs, she kicked and bucked under him, ineffective. “Yield.” he spoke the word almost gently. 

Her pulse fluttered beneath the skin, she was looking at but not seeing him, she shifted and gripped the tip of his lance and pushed back, a sob mingled with a shout as she struggled against him. She was covered in sweat and sand and impotent rage. She hadn’t been fighting him at all, but herself.

“No” her voice was ragged. 

Estinien recalled being pinned by Vodofnir’s talons, beaten, in much the same way, spitting like an adder, refusing to accept his weakness. She’d wrapped him in talon and wing like an unruly child having a tantrum, gentle but firm. And in that cocoon of warmth, surrounded by her gentle song, he wept for the first time since Ferndale. 

He tossed away his lance, immediately Shiloh surged up with fists beating at his chest, nails scratching at whatever skin she could reach, he let her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and they tumbled to the sand, rolling body over body with Shiloh caught between fight and flight. He didn’t know what words would reach her, so he said nothing. Instead, he shifted into a sitting position dragging her with him, she hissed and screamed, hit and pushed and scratched like a wild thing. Estinien held her tightly, familiar with her desperate bid to keep from breaking. Slowly the fight drained from her, both her arms folded between them, her hands tightly balled fists, every muscle tight and tense. 

“Yield.” he spoke in a near whisper against the top of her horn. She lowered her head to his chest and shook it. _ No _ . When had her fear become a mantle she took refuge in? 

Estinien lowered his head, cheek against hair, lips against horn. “Yield.” 

Her fists opened only to grip his shirt, a shudder traveled through her, until the slightest quake of her shoulders. 

“Please.” He begged. 

Estinien felt the collapse of her guard like a physical weight lifting, felt the tension escape her as she fell forward in his grasp. She muffled herself in his chest, still too proud to weep openly. He eased his hold and she circled her arms around his waist. Shiloh gripped him as if her life depended on him being there, fisting the back of his shirt, a lifeline against the waves of her emotions, as they finally, finally split the stone she’d thought to replace her heart with. Her tears soaked through his shirt, her heaving sobs bounced along his bones, in a chorus he knew all too well. He’d born witness to her tears in the past, but this was different, she mourned herself and all the pieces of her fate had stolen away. With a gentleness that surprised even him, he gathered her into his lap and rocked her as she fell apart. 

He held her through the storm, and slowly her breathing evened out, punctuated by the occasional hiccuping sigh and sniffle. He shifted her in his arms, and caught sight of her face, tears and fluid streaking the sand that still clung to her. Her eyes puffy and bloodshot, her skin splotchy and red. She glanced up at him, eyes swimming before looking away, turning into his neck. 

“Don’t look.” She whispered into his skin. 

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” He tucked her hair behind her horn.

“It's embarrassing.” She mumbled. 

“It’s brave,” he brushed the wetness from her cheek.  _ beautiful. _

She was raw, and real, and vulnerable and his heart squeezed so tightly it stole his breath. His knuckle traced along her jaw, her cheek, her hairline. She bent towards his touch as he coaxed her back into his sight, tentative, shy. His gaze shifted from liquid honey eyes, to slightly parted lips, he shared her air and inhaled sharply. 

He wasn’t being fair. He slid his fingers into her wild, sand filled hair. He was selfish. Estinien tipped her head bringing her forehead to forehead. Covetous. His nose traced along the bridge of hers, and thick lashes, jeweled in tears, fluttered shut. Unworthy. He pressed his lips to her crown and ignored the riot in his own chest when she sighed a soft, confused sound.

She trusted him enough to expose the fragile, jagged edges of her heart, full of cracks and imperfections, the part of her she guarded most fiercely and his first thought had been his own want. How tempting to pluck such a treasure, and guard it like so much dragon’s hoard. How simple it would be to unburden his feelings and desires both. How twisted must he be to want to take advantage. He separated them gently, easing her off of his lap, helping her onto shaky legs. 

“Estinien?” Shiloh’s voice was rough, quiet. She wiped at her face with the heel of her hand, crossed the space between them and gripped the arm of his shirt. She didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Mm?” He half turned towards her. 

She bit her lower lip, dragging her teeth across, opened her mouth only to close it again. He felt her hand trace down his forearm. “I… want to go home.” 

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything worth a damn. Halone was testing him, he was sure of it. Served him right for trying to help. He waited for her to gather her things and then she asked without words, fingers brushing against fingers, shy but insistent. He answered, linking them, twined, palm to palm. They made their way back up the path in silence, she squeezed, and he returned the gesture, reassurance. She deserved better than him, better than selfish, and Estinien didn’t know if he had it in him to be what she needed. He glanced back and caught her staring, she quirked a half smile before looking away. He resigned himself to falling anyways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me hell, it went through a ton of revisions until I finally felt happy with it which has made me extra nervous in posting. Any comments are welcome and appreciated. Chapter 6 may be longer in coming with 5.3 hitting on Tuesday. Thanks again for reading! :)


	6. Resolution - Shiloh

Shiloh wasn’t an honest person, ironic that her echo allowed her to see the truth about everyone but herself. Not that she was a habitual liar, she could give an honest assessment or opinion if asked. She was honest in her affections towards her friends and erstwhile lovers, and equally honest if they upset or lied to her. When it came to others she was honest to a fault. It was her own identity that was a fabrication. She was a series of expectations, and titles, and she behaved differently for different people, adjusting her character to meet with their perception. The vast majority of people expected perfection from the Warrior of Light, so Shiloh strove for perfection, to be worthy of her own myth. Because if she was anything less than the myth then she would be exposed for the imposter she was. That she’d managed to pretend for almost five years was a feat, ten years if she counted the time after the Calamity.

Ryne and Y’shtola assured her that her soul was whole, that the corrupting light had been purged. Shiloh wondered if perhaps all the cracks were still there, her soul a great aetherial jigsaw puzzle ready to fall to pieces by an errant gust of wind. So Shiloh did what she did best, she hid, and avoided, and built a box around the delicate and fragile pieces of her to protect it from the wind, and the light, and anything else that might knock the facade over. She donned the mantle of Warrior of Light, but it didn’t fit the way it used to. The easy smiles and reassurances, imperfect facsimiles. She was defensive, and arrogant, pushing all those away who might ask if all was well, or wondering why she wasn’t acting herself, as if they’d ever known her, as if she’d ever known herself. As it would happen, her fear was louder than any lie she might’ve told regardless of how stubbornly she denied it. Her terror manifested in a way that wouldn’t be hidden or explained away, it robbed her of her power and exposed the cracks of her decade old lie, so she fled from the First, and Eorzea. To hide while she repaired the damage. 

The gust of wind she’d been so keen to protect herself from hit her on that beach at Estinien’s hands, lance. Not in the way she’d anticipated. In the end, she was the one who rattled all of her walls loose, she was the one who shook the shards of her carefully constructed soul apart. And when she’d been left standing half buried in her lies it was Estinien who swept them away. She was left facing the eighteen year old girl she left behind when the world fell from the sky, in all her weakness and fear, all the scars of her life bare and bleeding. He’d taken her hand and held her when she fell under the weight of her grief. She didn’t know how to feel about him, or his reaction to her. The part of her that was greedy and selfish, longed for his touch, wanted to climb into his lap and lose herself in the safety of his arms. Her ever present fear made her shy, and nervous. The vestiges of her pride left her feeling terribly embarrassed, and it was that pride that left her in bed hiding under her blankets despite the need to empty her bladder and eat. Her cynicism called her a damn fool. 

In and out, the door opened and shut, he was doing something, and she was desperately curious, because he’d chosen to stay home in lieu of taking on a hunt mark. If it was to keep an eye on her she couldn’t tell, because thus far he’d spent the morning outside, constructing, something. Heavy footfalls made their way down the steps, Shiloh held her breath. He walked past her and she heard one of the doors in the hallway open and close. She chanced a look, her hair a mess from going to bed with it still damp, it stuck up in every which way, her eyes emerged next, scanning the living room until they fell on Estinien casually leaning against the wall. She startled. 

“So you are avoiding me.” He pushed himself off the wall and sat on the couch. His white hair was up in a tight tail, he wore a black tank top, dirty work pants and boots. He pulled heavy leather work gloves from his hands. He smelled like sawdust. “Have you finished your hiding?” 

“I’m not…” She stopped herself when he arched an eyebrow at her, “ok but you...saw...all of that...” she gestured at herself vaguely, “mess.” Estinien nodded, not saying anything, “it’s...I’m…” she bit her lower lip and scowled, ran her hands through unruly hair and covered her eyes with her palms. “It’s humiliating.” She dragged her hands down her face, opting to keep her eyes covered with her fingers, it was certainly easier than looking directly at him. “I don’t know how to face you, after you saw me...like that.” She peered at him through split fingers, felt the heat of her cheeks under her palms. 

Estinien let out a long suffering groan, and scrubbed his own face with his hands, he slouched in his seat and considered her a moment before leaning forward to rest his chin on steepled fingers. “Aye, I saw you.” He canted his head, “I saw you in pain, and full of fear, stripped of all your armor, and I helped you as best as I could.” Shiloh tried to pull the blanket up towards her face, but Estinien stopped her, holding the blanket at her chin with a finger. “I have seen nothing in you that you haven't already seen in me.” 

Shiloh tried to protest but he pressed on, “you have borne witness to my greatest shame, and my worst fears, you have seen me with my soul stripped to the quick, and you didn’t flinch.” He tilted her chin up, and she met the cool blue of his eyes, “why then would you think that I would flinch from you?” 

“It’s not the same.” she mumbled stubbornly, she felt the heat travel down to her shoulders. She gripped the blanket to her chest, so that Estinien didn’t see the splotchy blush run roughshod over her torso. 

Estinien’s retort was interrupted by a loud gurgle from Shiloh’s stomach. He exhaled sharply from his nose, “breakfast is waiting upstairs.” Without further preamble he left her sitting in her nest of blankets, hair still sticking out every which way, her camisole strap slipped from her shoulder and she pursed her lips. She supposed her own foot was not a suitable breakfast. 

She emerged with her cup of coffee, Estinien was covered in a layer of sawdust, and he hammered at a joint of wood with a single minded scowl. She was disgusted with herself, her ungratefulness, he was right, of course he was, their circumstances were more similar than not. It was why she’d chased after him all those weeks ago in Mor Dhona, that, and she missed him. Here she was pushing him away, content to mope in her self pity, doing everything but face herself, and attempt an honest recovery.

Shiloh cleared her throat, “I’m going to the Ruby Bazaar today, to contact Tataru.” 

He stopped mid swing, wiped the sweat from his brow, “You’re a brave one.” 

“I’ll need my cane if I’m to remaster my conjury.” She mustered what courage remained in her, “I’ve been stubborn, and ungrateful, I’ve been making excuses, and you have been unreasonably patient with me.” To her last Estinien smirked. “I have been hiding from you, from the other scions, because I’ve never been more scared, I convinced myself there was an easy or quick solution, and I should know by now that there are no easy answers. I…it’s about time I got on with it.”

“Remind me to beat you more often, if this is the result.” 

Shiloh looked around for something, anything, to throw at Estinien, when there was naught but her coffee mug she crossed her arms, “yesterday doesn’t count.” 

Estinien laughed a full hearty chuckle, “Oh, it counts. We’re one for one.” 

“You were a dragon! I was a sad intermediate dancer. Doesn’t count.” She couldn’t hold her offended countenance in the face of Estinien’s laughter, it was rare and infectious, even if it was at her expense. 

“Good luck with Tataru, I’ve a feeling you’ll need it.” Estinien mastered his mirth, but only just, a smile not far from his lips

  
  


~

  
  


He was right, Tataru’s anger was palpable, it was born of worry. It was bad enough the other scions were all unconscious with tenuous holds on their very souls, but for Shiloh to have not only lost her ability to use magic, but to disappear besides had not helped matters. Tataru’s shaking voice wasn’t lost on her, she’d made the good natured receptionist cry and guilt settled in her stomach, heavy like a stone. 

“Would it kill you to let me know you’re still alive? You’re not exactly in fighting fit condition yourself.” The Lalafellin voice echoed from the linkshell into her horns. 

“You’re right, Tataru, and I’m sorry. I was wrong, I just couldn’t stay in the Toll, but I should have told you where I was. Honestly, when I left I didn’t know where I was going to land.” Shiloh bit her lower lip and winced. 

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Shiloh.” 

“I know, I know, I just needed some time to myself to get my head on straight. Losing my magic has been...hard.” When there wasn’t an immediate reply Shiloh pressed on, “in fact, you’ll be happy to know I’m not even alone anymore. I’m with Estinien, he’s been watching my back, and making me rest, gave me a futon and a floor to crash on. I’m safe, I promise. He’s the one who’s pushing me to try a different approach….an honest one.” 

“I’m still angry with you.” Shiloh could hear the pout. “Hold on.’ Tataru’s voice muffled for a handful of seconds. “Stay put at the Ruby Bazaar, I’m sending Krile-”

“Shouldn’t Krile stay with the others?” Shiloh’s concern was genuine, though the idea of facing Krile Baldesion’s ire wasn’t exactly a welcome one. 

“Master Matoya’s here, not to worry.” She cleared her throat, “as I was saying, Krile is on her way with your requested items and gil, I’m leaving how to deal with you in her hands. She knows more about magic, and aether, and medicine than me, so I’ll trust whatever she decides.” 

Before Shiloh could reply, “If Krile decides you need to come back to the Toll, then I want your word you’ll come home. And I want your word you’ll never lie to me again or disappear into the aether without so much as a by your leave.” 

Shiloh leaned back, and rubbed at the cross of scales that sat between her eyes, “I swear on the lives of our friends, and all the Twelve, that I will abide by Krile’s decision.” Shiloh bit the inside of her cheek, “and I promise to never lie to you again or disappear without a word.” 

Tataru exhaled, “Good.” As if turning a dial The Scion’s receptionists voice shifted back to her familiar perky countenance, “She’ll be there in a bell, give Estinien our best, maybe he’ll be more inclined to join the Scions if you suggest it?” 

“I’ll ask. Thank you Tataru, and I’m sorry.” She meant it, Tataru didn’t deserve the kind of worries she had, she certainly didn’t deserve the added stress of a rogue, magicless, warrior of light.

With a bell to waste, Shiloh decided to take a stroll through the gardens that wove through the stately embassies. She took off her sandals and dangled her feet from a decorative bridge that spanned the koi pond. Immediately the fish congregated at the surface, her painted toes, apparently, an appetizing sight. Her mind turned to Estinien and she couldn't help the soft smile. The way he watched her didn’t go unnoticed, nor the way he handled her with such gentleness. Gods she’d wanted to kiss him, and she could have sworn he wanted to do the same. When they were together it was simple. That wasn’t to say she didn’t overthink every glance and smile, and accidental touch after the fact, it didn’t stop the fear from coiling around her heart telling her it was a terrible idea, that she was not deserving of his care. But when they cooked, or walked the beach, or went to market together, it felt natural, comfortable. He always could make her feel seen, not as the warrior of light, or the storied hero of legend, or some long dead Amaurotine lover, but as herself. To him she was Shiloh first, everything else was window dressing, and that recognition was a rare and precious gift. 

“There you are.” Krile called from down the path. Shiloh’s head shot up, glancing at the sun in the sky, it couldn’t have been a bell already?

“Krile!, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-” She started climbing up from her perch on the bridge. 

“I’m early, sit, sit, that looks like a lovely spot to chat.” The diminutive Sharlayan offered Shiloh a kind smile, and joined her on the bridge. “Hoary and Coultenet are dropping your staff, and requested tomes off at the Ruby Bazaar.” She patted Shiloh’s knee, “you look peaceful. How have you been?” 

Krile had a way of disarming others with her kindness, but Shiloh knew better, her assessment from her fellow healer had started as soon as Krile had spotted her. 

“Better.” Krile tilted her head, “not better better….just better than I was” Shiloh amended, and with a deep breath she told Krile of her time in Kugane, all of it, from being robbed, and getting into the fight, about Estinien, and his gentleness in the face of her flashbacks and terror. She spoke of her plan to take up dancing, only to abandon said plan in the wake of her embarrassing display against the former Azure Dragoon. Finally she outlined her plan to re-acquaint herself with the fundamentals of conjury, and with luck slowly begin to regain her ability to use white magic without fear or pain.Krile listened to every word, asking occasional clarifying questions. 

“It’s a fine plan, exactly what I would have suggested to you. I dare say you’re better equipped to accomplish it here in Hingashi then back in Mor Dhona. It’s best to have someone trusted nearby when you do start practicing your conjury and white magic, and my time is primarily spent in the infirmary with our sleeping friends. Estinien, I think, will suit your purpose perfectly.” 

Shiloh nodded, the corners of her mouth curving up at the mention of his name. 

“As for the dancing.” Krile tilted her head with a gentle smile, “do you enjoy it?” 

“What? Well enough I suppose, but if I can’t use it in the field, I don’t see much point.” 

“The point is that you enjoy it, not everything is about duty or usefulness. When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to?” 

The stretching silence punctuated Krile’s point, as Shiloh struggled to find a suitable answer. 

“I’ve made my decision, you can stay and recover in Kugane on the condition that you keep up with your dancing lessons, and spend at least a bell a day doing something entirely frivolous. I leave you in Estinien’s capable hands.” Krile stood, her wide smile lighting her sweet face. 

Shiloh’s laughter filled the serene garden, but she nodded, and promised Krile she would do her best. She also promised to check in at least once a week, to keep her and Tataru abreast of her progress. They made their way back to the Ruby Bazaar, where Hoary Boulder and Coultenet were chatting with Hancock, after exchanging brief pleasantries the trio hurried back to Revenant's Toll. 

Feeling lighter than she had in moons, Shiloh made her way back to the ferry that would bear her back to Shirogane. The porter Hancock had supplied her was an amiable Roegadyn youth. He balanced the two crates of tomes, while Shiloh managed the delicate crate of alchemical instruments. The familiar weight of her everblooming cane sat on her back, and the thrum of it’s foci called to her aether in a comforting whisper. A marked difference from when she’d removed it after returning from the First, when all she could feel was an irritated whine. It was a promising first step. 

The ferry shifted as Shiloh’s parcels were loaded, already she was making plans, deciding on a proper clearing in the yard where she might be able to meditate, perhaps plant a small garden to appease the local elementals. She grasped her porters extended hand to step into the softly swaying boat, only for the quietly humming pier to explode in a cacophony. 

“Please, help me, you have to help me! He’s taken my boy!” A panicked hyur woman, in a noticeably worn down yukata, grasped and cried at any who passed her. Everytime, whoever she grabbed pulled out of her grip with a disgusted sniff. Shiloh paused. It wasn’t her business, get on the boat. But then the woman’s eyes met her own, tears streaking a dirty face. She wore no shoes. Shiloh bit the inside of her cheek, and released her porter's hand, stepping back from the boat. 

“A moment.” Shiloh murmured to the ferry captain and porter both before turning to face the stricken woman. 

“My lady, will you not help me, my boy, my son, he’s taken him.” The Hyur woman grasped both of Shiloh’s hands in a vice grip. Shiloh responded with quiet calm. 

“Deep breath my friend, start at the beginning and tell me your plight, who has your son?” 

“My thrice damned husband, he’s taken our son to use as collateral to pay his debts. He took the Doctor’s poisons and used our savings to pay for it, leaving us with nothing.” 

“Have you taken your petition to the sekisegumi?” Don’t get involved, walk away, get on the boat. The voice urging her away sounded distinctly like Estinien’s. Shiloh pressed her lips into a tight frown. 

“They care not, so far as they are concerned my son is fair payment. They would sooner arrest my husband and I for our debt, than save my son from that Garlean monster.” The woman's voice caught on her words and she sobbed. “He has the sight, my son, he’s special, the Doctor will use him for his twisted experiments, or send him to Garlemald, please, he’s all I have left.” 

It would be foolish, mind bogglingly reckless to intervene as she was, Shiloh would be no help and would likely get herself killed, or captured considering the Doctor’s apparent penchant for collecting echo sensitive individuals. She still didn’t know if this Doctor was affiliated with the empire or if they were rogue. She risked capture and delivering herself to Zenos wearing a neat little bow, and he would promptly kill her for losing her deadly luster, another broken toy. It should have been enough to make her turn the woman down. She turned to her porter with the address for Estinien’s cottage. 

“When you get there, let the master of the house know that his partner is inclined to be heroic and reckless and that she would appreciate his lance at her back.” The porter balked at her gap mouthed. “Do you know where your husband took your son?” Shiloh asked.

“R..Rakuza district, I’ll show you.” The woman tugged at her hands. 

“Tell Estinien I’ll be in Rakuza, and that I shan’t start any fights without him.” It was her compromise, he’d promised to fight for her when she couldn’t. This wasn’t technically what he meant, she would apologize after the child was returned to his mother. She saw the ferry off and then turned, chasing after the stricken woman. It would be fine, Estinien had secreted himself into Garlemald for Twelve sake, this would be childsplay. Maybe she'd bake him something in apology.

The narrow streets of the Rakuza district were a labyrinth, Shiloh attempted to mark each turn, but each path looked much like the last. Knowing Estinien would come from above lessened her growing unease only just. Her guide’s posture and demeanor shifted, the urgency and panic bled away after each turn. Until finally they stopped on a secluded street that looked much like all the others. The difference being this one was teeming with fully armored and armed Garlean soldiers, at their center, a man in a long flowing white coat and a double lensed monocle. The Doctor she assumed. 

A chorus of gunblades aimed and cocked their triggers at her, Shiloh lifted her arms into the air. Of course it was a trap. 

“Such a good girl, you’ve brought me back such a lovely gift, come get your reward.” The Doctor beckoned his catspaw to him with the flash of a silvery syringe. “Bind her.” 

Relieved of her cane, and forced to her knees, she set her hands on her head, and quickly unclasped her hair clip. It tumbled from her hair when her wrists were bound behind her back. At least she’d tried this time, she’d sent word, she technically hadn’t started any fights without him. She looked to the rooftops and sighed, Estinien was going to kill her. 


	7. Odds Are - Estinien

Estinien was going to kill her. Or put a bell around her neck, or maybe a leash to keep her from running off. Damnably frustrating woman. He slipped his armor on with practiced ease, the reticulated scale mail sliding into place like a second skin over his forearms. He slipped Niddhogg from his place on the wall and set the lance on his back. What passed as the adventurers guild in Kugane had a contract out for the self same Doctor Shiloh had so cavalierly run off to investigate. Estinien had been tracking the Garlean scientist, disrupting ingredient deliveries in the Ruby Sea and on the coast of Yanxia. The man himself was no fool, heavily guarded, well informed, and intelligent, a former lieutenant to one Aulus Mal Asina, the Doctor, or rather, Claudio Mal Vitelius was not to be trifled with. There was no use hoping he wouldn’t know who Shiloh was, Vitelius likely knew very well who had killed and routed his masters. Estinien picked up the pace, powerful legs propelling him into the hills and mountains that bordered Shirogane separating it from Kugane itself, a stone of anxiety settling in his gut, he misliked the situation, and mumbled a quick prayer to Halone that he would reach her in time.

Scanning from the rooftops of the Rakuza district, Estinien searched the labyrinthine paths for pale blonde hair, and the familiar lavender blossom hair pin she seemed to favour of late. A glint caught his eye and he fell lightly to the dusty street. Her hair pin, the finely spun glass blossoms broken, the pin broken in two. The dirt in the road was covered in dozens of footprints, but there didn’t appear to be any signs of a struggle. An ambush then. He held the pin in his gauntleted hand, the dragon within roared, and a red shadow fell over his sight. Estinien’s nostrils flared, and he followed the obvious path of footsteps in dust, the scent of magitek, and metal, and there underneath it all was her floral perfume. The hair pin shattered from the force of his fist.

He did not hold back when he found the Garlean guards, Niddhogg drank deep of the blood of those who would do harm to that which was his. The dragon soul named her mate, beloved, words he would never speak out loud but made him particularly deadly in dismantling those who would presume to take her. He asked a single question of the writhing imperial impaled on the tip of his lance. “Where is she.” His voice, like his mood was a dark thing, cruel hatred licking up from the depths, threatening to overtake him. The soon to be dead guard pointed at a set of doors, and Estinien twisted his lance. He hid the bodies behind a cart, kicking dust over the wet blood stains.

His good sense returned to him, and instead of striding through the front door, he leaped to the second floor balcony, slipping in through an open sliding door. The unfortunate guard saw naught of his death when it punctured his heart through his back. Within, her scent was stronger, but it was her scream of pain which propelled Estinien to action, following to the source. A room, of Hingan fashion, but filled to the eaves with magitek contraptions was where he found her. She was strapped to a metal table, with a helmeted mask covering her eyes and gagging her mouth. All manner of medical tubing was attached to her forearms, a near luminous liquid being injected into her body. But all Estinien could see was the tremor in her hands, the tears tracking down her cheeks, how her jaw clenched around the gag, and how quickly she was breathing through her nostrils.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed--” Claudio Mal Vitelius turned on his heels, “Oh for the love of the Emperor. Guards!”

“Your men are dead, now release her.” Even as he said it, footfalls echoed in the hallway. No matter, the statement would be true soon enough.

A lance was not meant for close quarter combat, but Estinien had learned much in his time in Garlemald with Gaius, paired with the muscle memory of his earliest training with the Temple Knights he fought, and turned their weapons against each other. He used the closest body as a human shield against bullets, and slashes, divesting the corpse of his short sword when he fell. He used the sharp points of his armor to his advantage, and set himself between Shiloh and the attacking Garleans, until all that remained was a very peevish and angry Vitelius.

“Very well, you win, but I need assurances, there’s nothing to stop you from killing me as you did my men.”

“You’re hardly in a position to negotiate, Imperial.” Estinien pulled a second shotsword from one of the corpses that littered the floor.

“If you want the antidote for what I’ve injected her with, you will let me go, alive.” He pulled a vial from an inner pocket, shaking it’s contents at Estinien.

“Fine, you have my word, I won’t kill you, now release her.” He curled his lip and bared his teeth, the red colouring his eyes growing dark, Nidhogg's aether-- his aether, a tangible, physical threat even to the aether blind Garlean.

“Oh I think not.” He set the antidote down on a table behind him. “The release is the blue lever, on that control panel. I’m leaving now. Once I’ve left, you may do with her as you will.” Claudio edged towards the door.

Estinien inclined his head and watched him scramble down a flight of stairs, before hurrying to the control panel and activating the lever. A hiss sounded, then a click, and the manacles attached to the table released. He helped ease the mask off of her, and she gasped when the gag was taken from her mouth. The moment the helmet was removed her aether filled the room. Her eyes glowed a bright white, curls of aether like smoke rose from her body, from her mouth when she breathed, from the corners of now pupiless eyes.

“Get away from me.” Shiloh’s voice was raw and otherworldly, “when I change, I will kill you, I will usher the First into oblivion.” she cried out, biting off a sob, “you must run.”

Estinien could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Shiloh at the height of her power, so infused with light she glowed, Haurchefant had once called her one of Halone’s own Valkyries. I felt blasphemous to see her power turned against her like this. She slid from the metal table and collapsed clutching her head, and each whimper and pained cry expelled white smoke from between her lips. He reached for the antidote and knelt beside her.

“Shiloh, you’re not on the First, you’re not changing.” He held up the vial, unsure if she saw, “This will help, whatever the Doctor did to you, this will fix it.”

She extended a hand, her fury as palpable as her power, and Estinien stood knowing a threat when he saw one. He braced for her attack only the icy tendrils of her Aether to passed over him. There was a pained gasp from the direction of the doorway. He spun in time to see Claudio Mal Vitelius drop the pistol that had been trained on his back. The Imperial clutched at his chest, gasping, as a red mist left his body. Blood. It coalesced in the palm of Shiloh’s outstretched hand, in the shape of a great red lily, dripping into her palm.

“Mercy.” the Imperial croaked, fear writ plainly on his face.

“No.” And she crushed the blood lily in her hand, coating her forearm, whatever magic spell she’d cast ended with a final gurgled gasp and the Doctor’s death. Estinien didn’t feel the way his lip curled, or note how his red tinted eyes narrowed, he did feel his aether, his gift from Niddhogg, purr it’s approval. His heart beat wildly in his chest, the song of his once enemy singing one word into his mind, mate.

She was keening in pain, rocking, her aether flaring, a white heat that could have easily been mistaken for cold. Estinien pulled the stopper from the vial, praying to the Fury that it wasn’t another trick, and cradled Shiloh’s shaking form in his arms. He brought the vial to her lips, and mercifully, she drank. The dragon soul within calmed with her in his arms, cooed at her aether, and her scent. Estinien forced his inherited instincts down, until the red haze painting his vision dissipated. Slowly Shiloh’s eyes returned to their familiar gold, the curls of aether that clung to her form evaporated in the absence of whatever poison she’d been given.

“Estinien?” She sat up and saw the imperial bodies that littered the ground, at her blood soaked arm. She wrenched herself from his grip and emptied the content of her stomach onto the floor.

“We need to go.” He helped her to her feet.

“My staff.” she took a step and nearly buckled on unsteady legs. He spied the familiar living branch with its white crystalline foci nestled in blooming leaves. The whistles of the sekisegumi were distant, but getting closer. He secured her staff to his back alongside his lance.

He knelt in front of her, gently placing her arms around his neck, and pulling her close, “it will balance the weight better,” he murmured when she hesitated. When he rose he lifted her legs to wrap around him, and he pointedly ignored the surge of heat pooling at the base of his spine, ignored how his nerves lit up when she wrapped her long tail around his thigh. “Hold on tight.” And she did, her breath puffing against his neck in short, frightened pants. He held her with one arm, and with the other unlatched the window, and leapt through it.

Half way back, traversing the pillar like mountains that bisected Shirogane from Kugane, Estinien came to a stop. She was slight, but her added weight was still more then he was used to. Gone was the adrenaline fueled dragon soul which had propelled him to her, and his stamina had its limits.He put her down, and she gave him space, hugged her body, and shivered.

“I’m sorry.” Shiloh’s voice was quiet, and rough.

“Don’t” Estinien stretched with his back to her. Not trusting himself to be kind or patient. His temper at her recklessness, now that she was safe, was flaring.

“I thought sending word would be enough, she told me there was a child in danger--”

“Don’t” He rounded on her now. She was still pale, still weakened from her ordeal, her hair clung to her sweat soaked brow.

“I didn’t think I would be a target.” She pressed on.

“That’s the problem with you, Shiloh, you don’t think.” His voice was rising.

“I was only trying to help…” Her voice was quiet, no conviction. Good.

“Try helping yourself, for once. Because I am getting tired of cleaning up your messes.”

She laughed, a bitter sound. “Fine, I’ll go back to Mor Dhona, out of your hair, out of your life, it’s how you prefer things isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I said.” he prowled forward.

“But it’s what you want! To go back to your solitude, so you can stop pretending to care.”

“Do not presume to know what I want.”

“Then tell me!! Tell me what you want from me, Estinien, because I can’t figure it out. Three years without so much as a word, and now, suddenly I matter to you?? If this is about when I saved your life--”

“Don’t change the subject, this isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?? Why do you even care what happens to me?”

“I care because I fucking love you!” He shouted it, and his voice echoed around the mountain peaks. Shit.

“What?” It was amazing really how she managed to go even paler.

“We need to get down from this mountain.” His anger drained away, the horror he saw in her face in light of his confession shot shame throughout his body, and he felt the tips of his ears heat.

“No..You don’t...you can’t? It’s been less then a month..Estinien why would you say that?” She was backing away from him, precariously close to the edge of the peak they’d decided to argue on.

Carefully, he approached, eyes flicking to the path her feet were walking. “It doesn’t matter, you’re clearly not interested, let’s go back home, so you can rest. Forget...forget I said anything.” And he didn’t expect for those words to hurt so much.

“Forget? How could I forget that, Estinien, when? How? I’m...I’m not a good person to love, you know my history.” Shiloh evaded his grasp to pull her away from the edge.

“I don’t care about your history, I care about you.” a heartbeat passed, He watched as her heel caught on a rock, watched in slow motion as she twisted trying to catch herself and finding nothing but air and an impossibly steep drop. Heard the surprised gasp before her body toppled, his fingers brushed the edges of her tunic, but found no purchase. Another heartbeat passed.

Estinien’s dragon soul roared to life and followed her over the edge. He caught up quickly, diving after her. Shiloh’s eyes were huge, her mouth open in a soundless cry. And she reached for him with desperate hands.. He caught her circling her waist with his arm, flipping in the air, pulling her close. She hugged him burying her face in his neck, felt the mumbled prayer whispered against his skin. His pulse beat in his ears, louder than the whistling air.

“I have you.” He angled himself, orienting land and sky, before springboarding against the side of the cliff towards a lower peak.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered again and again. Nails digging into the back of his neck and the base of his skull, the pressure sent bolts of pleasure throughout his body, he grit his teeth, ignoring the more primal call of his dragon soul. He gripped her tighter, and brushed a barely perceptible kiss to the top of her head. Estinien used the momentum of the fall and his aether to springboard to the next peak, soaring without wings. Shirogane finally came into view.

He landed in the sand of their private beach, and still she clung to him. Shaking hands came to rest against his chest and he gripped them with his own, tracing soothing circles over her skin with gauntleted and clawed fingers.

“Are you alright?” The scene at the top of the mountain momentarily forgotten.

She nodded, took a step back and buckled, sucking in a pained breath, “No, nope, that’s my ankle.”

“Easy.” He knelt urging her to balance on his shoulders and gently took her ankle in hand, it was swollen and bruised, likely a sprain. He looked up at her, she was only slightly taller than him in this position. Pale pink lips parted in a wince. “At the very least it will keep you off your feet, and out of trouble for a couple of days.”

Her laugh bordered manic, unshed tears reflecting the late afternoon sun. “I’m such an idiot.” She whispered.

“We all have our faults.” He smiled at her and rose from his kneeling position sweeping her into his arms as he went, and jumped again, bringing them to his front door. Her parcels were still crowding the entry way, and Estinien nudged them to the side, careful not to jostle her. He brought her down the steps and set her down on the couch putting a pillow under her sprained ankle. He wrapped some ice in a tea towel and gingerly laid it on her injury.

Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the metalling clicks of Estinien removing his armor. He felt Shiloh’s eyes on his back, a prickle between his shoulder blades.

“Estinien.” Her voice was small, shy. He turned towards her. “I could..use a shower..and a glass of water...but I need help.” The last part a barely perceptible whisper, it still set Estinien’s heart racing. He only nodded in response, his throat impossibly dry.

He went to the bathroom and fetched her a large towel and a glass of water. He cleared his throat, “Take off what you can on your own...and when you need help, call for me, you can wrap yourself in the towel.”

She nodded, and even bloodied as she was, the high blush on her cheeks was fetching. His ears felt like they might burn off. He made to leave.

“Where are my things?” Shiloh finally noticed the absence of her clutter when she put down the now empty glass.

“I moved them to your room.”

“I have a room? Is that what you’ve been working on these past few days?”

Estinien rubbed the back of his neck, and nodded. “Aye. I was hoping to surprise you, but plans changed. Would you like to see it?”

She shifted on the couch, removing the ice and extended a hand. He helped her to her feet, and resisted carrying her again, instead offering support while she limped to the previously unused second bedroom. She gasped when he opened the door and he thought she might be in pain, were it not for the look of happy surprise on her face.

“You did this for me?”

“You were distracting, and I thought you might appreciate some privacy.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you” She squeezed his hand, and her smile was brilliant.

He stood a little taller, allowing his pride that much, pleased that she liked the room. The handmade wooden furniture was a deep mahogany, the linens and bed sheets a combination of the lavender and current purple she seemed to favor. His mind going back briefly to her broken hair pin.

“What do you mean by distracting?”

She would be the death of him, his blush moved past his ears to his cheeks. Damn her for the effect she had on him, he felt like an untried boy in her presence.

“Your sleep wear, and blankets shift at night.” It was all he would say, but the small o shape her lips made told him she caught his meaning.

“Turnabout is fair play, I’ve woken to you half naked and working out more than once.”

Estinien choked on the air. “You were awake?”

“You try sleeping through that grunting, besides, it was a lovely sight to wake up to.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

“Bloody minx.” He growled at her, a smile tugging at his lips.

She squeezed his hand again, but didn’t meet his eyes when he turned towards her. “When did you know?”.

There was no question of what she was asking. “The Steps of Faith, Niddhogg mocked me with my feelings, told me he would kill my mate just as we had killed his.”

“All this time.”

“Aye.”

“You’re wrong.” And she finally did meet his eyes, “you said, on the mountain, that I clearly wasn’t interested...you’re wrong.”

“You have a strange way of showing it. You looked like you were going to be sick again.” His tone was teasing, voice cracking only just, belying his nerves. He didn’t dare hope.

“Because I’m afraid.”

“So am I.”

He was the one to avert his gaze this time, not trusting his actions if he looked into her face, at the question written in her expression. Underneath their mingled scent of blood and sweat, was her floral, orange blossom he’d learned, he inhaled and stifled the noise at the back of his throat. He loved her, all of her, her weakness and staggering strength, even her frustrating compassion. He loved the way she danced when she cooked, and sang off key. He loved the way she teased him, and how she pouted when he teased her back. He loved how she felt in his arms, how right it was, and it had been so long since anything had felt right in his life.

“Fate won’t grant me a happy ending, Estinien.” Her fingers danced over his cheek, carding into his hair and he leaned into the touch. He knelt at her feet so she wouldn’t have to stretch so far to reach him. When she leaned into his space he took each of her hands in turn and kissed her knuckles, dirty and bloody, and perfect. “Every time I’ve dared to love, or to hope for lasting happiness, it’s taken, not only from me, but from those I would share it with. I don’t want to hurt you, Estinien, you’ve been hurt enough.”

“It can’t be worse then the pain of not having you.” The emotion that played over her face made his heart stutter.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” She whispered, and she was touching him, her hands on his shoulders, in his hair, on his face, studying him for doubt, allowing him to walk away. But kneeling at her feet, at her mercy was the only place he wanted to be. She limped closer and lowered her forehead to his.

“Nothing.”

Her breath fanned over his lips, levin cracking wherever they were connected. He traced her nose with his own, inhaling, feeling the scales on the bridge, until her lips were on his, and for a moment neither of them moved. He gently traced her horns and tilted his head, kissing her, so gently he thought she might shatter under his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, a whine in her throat. And Fury take him, but it was music to his ears and he pulled her closer, the tight rein on his passion fraying. Delicate fingers traced his ears and he shuddered, heat pooling in his lower back, snapping up his spine.

She pulled away, golden eyes blown, pink lips kiss swollen, she shrugged the overcoat she’d been wearing onto the floor and raised her hands above her head. Estinien traced the skin below the seam of her sleeveless top before slowly pulling it over her head. Her scales were warm, he traced them along her skin and she gasped. He watched fascinated as goosflesh raised her skin in the wake of his hands. He bent his head to pass over where his hands had gone with his lips, the primal need to taste her near overwhelming. His tongue and teeth grazed her skin, and the sound she made went straight to his increasingly uncomfortable member, constrained as it was in his pants. She tugged at his shirt and he finally broke away so that she could tug it over his head. Shiloh traced the starburst scar on his shoulder with slow deliberate fingers, and bent to kiss a line from it’s gnarled center, all the way out to it’s pale edges. She kissed up his collar bone, his throat, his jaw, until their lips found each other again. He cradled her head and moaned into her mouth. His free hand was at her waist, calluses rough against the smooth scales giving way to skin, her scared stomach flexing under his touch. He stopped at the button of her shorts, waiting for her assent. Shiloh nodded, and with aching slowness he pulled them from the swell of her hips, uncovering more heated scales. Her tail caught on the fabric, and she moaned when he took it in hand to try pulling it through the cut out in her shorts.

“Sensitive?” He husked, carefully lifting her injured foot out of her clothes.

“Hmm.” She licked her lips, “the top, underneath.”

“Here?” and he stroked the underside of her tail where it met with her spine with deft fingers, her eyes rolled.

“Yes!” she gasped.

He gripped her thighs and lifted her bodily out of her shorts leaving her in nothing but her smalls, she wound his hair into her hands and pulled baring his neck, laving his throat before biting and sucking leaving a mark setting his nerves alight, running her nails against his head when he groaned urging more out of him, he obliged. He shifted her into one arm and unbuttoned his own trousers, stepping out of them when they fell at his feet.

“Shower?” He asked against her lips, and she nodded before reclaiming them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far in the fic, thank you for reading. I know my chapters meander, and I'm wordy, so truly, thank you for reading! I ended things a little abruptly here, chapter 8 will feature shower shenanigans and other spicy content. All nsfw chapters will be marked as such. I'd also like to invite you to join the mad band of delightful, kind, and friendly enablers at Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling [Bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) (Being a fan of Emet is entirely optional.) It's a wonderful discord for fic writers, readers, and artists.


	8. Freefall - NSFW Shiloh

Somehow they make it to the bathroom, the dull throb of pain from Shiloh’s ankle easily ignored with the way Estinien toyed with the underside of her tail. Her mind blanked when his hot mouth branded her with tongue and teeth and lips, canting her head to grant him more access to the sensitive scales of her neck. She arched, grinding into the hard plaines of his muscled chest, growing desperate for more friction, more pressure. Estinien lowered her to sit on the counter, between the two sinks, and he slots himself between her legs, and she is open wide to accommodate. He bumped her ankle and the pleasure that was growing was overtaken by the sharp pain of her wound. She sucked in a breath and winced. 

“Easy.” he husked, a rough gravel has entered his voice, icy blue eyes blown wide, his arousal obvious beneath straining smalls. He pet her legs waiting for her pain to pass. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered against the crown of her head, mastering his own need with long deep breaths. Estinien cupped her face with his large hands, long fingers sweeping wisps of hair from her face, “I would care for you, tend to your needs, all of them, if you will allow me?” 

Shiloh bit her lower lip, “and what needs might those be.” She reached for his forearms, but her right arm, still coated in the Doctor's sticky blood, stays her hand. 

Estinien grabbed her before she could fully pull away, uncaring that the blood transferred to his skin. “I would wash you,” he kissed her forehead, “bind your injury.” he pulled her close, hand low on her back, his clothed cock flush with her sensitive cunt. The contact made her whine, “and make love to you until your voice is hoarse.” 

“Alright.” She managed around a too dry throat. She tilted her head, afraid to blink away from the intensity of his gaze, unsure of what it was he saw when he looked at her. The hand on her lower back tugged on the little ribbon at the top of her tail, sliding along her backside, dragging her smalls off, slow and purposeful. He lifted her slightly to work them off her thighs, so achingly gentle. 

Shiloh’s smalls fell to the floor and he’s still watching her, she can’t nor wants to break the contact, spellbound as she was. She leans forward, not that he would struggle to reach her back and the clasps of her breast band. It too is left on the floor. He shuddered, his torso tensing, and almost hesitantly he cupped her small breasts, sweeping his thumbs over hard nipples, Shiloh huffed out a sigh as they pebbled under his touch. Estinien kissed the top of her shoulder. “Fury take me.” 

“She can get in line.” Shiloh mumbled against his skin where she was trailing kisses along his chest. 

He barked a laugh. Shiloh bit her lip, a coy smile answering his mirth. She tracked the movement of his hands, a sharp inhale through her nose when his thumbs hooked into his smalls. Estinien stalled and she gazed back up to his face to be met with an amused smirk. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, but tugged him forward with her own coquettish grin. 

“Do you need help, ser?” She dug her fingertips into the band of his smalls, arching an eyebrow in question. 

Estinien’s chuckle is breathless. “You looked like you wanted to do the honours, I am yet a knight, and I would not deny my lady.” He’s teasing her, and she bit her lip harder. “Besides I would see how far you can blush.” He leaned forward to speak against her horn, “it’s nearly to your navel.”

“You’re terrible.” She nipped at his jaw and began sliding his smalls past his hips.

  
  
  


Shiloh canted her head down, lips slightly parted, following the path of fine white hair just below his navel. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her when he was bare. His cock, was a thing of beauty, long and thick, crowned with white curls. The tip flushed and pink, her mouth watered. A throb pulled at the apex of her thighs.    
  
“Gods, Estinien, you are so beautiful.” She swept her eyes up from proud cock, to finely tuned muscles, to his myriad of scars, to his pale blue eyes set in an achingly handsome face, his expression fevered but reverent. 

Estinien was everything her soul needed, he was as cracked and imperfect as she was, her heart squeezed and stole her breath, words she swore to never speak again sat in her throat. So Shiloh tugged him towards her, and kissed him, swallowing her emotion, letting him taste it instead, and he devoured. His dextrous tongue licked into her, chasing her fear, and pride away, until there was nothing but the unspoken that he’d shouted across the mountain tops. Shiloh didn’t feel him lift her, kiss drunk and needy as she was. 

Once in the large shower, Estinien set her down on the wooden stool before turning on the water. It fell like like rain, hot and cleansing, and the water that circled the drain was dyed pink with the blood that coated her. It hit her then, what had happened to her, the abduction, the poison that had forced her Aether to the fore, amplifying it painfully, forcing a form she only took in direst conditions.  _ Measure your capabilities _ . But the breaking glass within her mind had drowned out all else. She shuddered, Estinien knelt, palms coated in soap. 

“Shiloh.” She snapped her eyes open at his voice, when had she closed them? She wasn’t sure if she’d been crying, the shower masking tears. “He can’t hurt you again.” She nodded not trusting her voice, and Estinien began massaging her scalp, and hair. She took long deep breaths relaxing into his ministrations, focused on his touch, on the warmth and levin he left in his fingers' wake. She hummed when he traveled down her neck, and kneaded her shoulders.

Shiloh watched him through the fall of the water, his long bangs pushed back until they weren’t anymore. She reached to wipe them from his eyes, wondered if he would let her trim his hair. She traced his jaw, and rubbed the fine stubble on his cheek, reminded suddenly of her childhood, of how her mother would rub her and Neji’s horns when they were upset, or hyperactive to calm them. It was a very Auri action, incredibly intimate, reserved for family and lovers, or so her mother had told her, she had no other frame of reference. She wondered--

“Could you,” she bit her lip, “Could you, rub my horns?” Estinien lifted an eyebrow but brought his hands up to the long tipped horns that swept out behind her. 

“Like this?” 

“A little harder.” And he increased the pressure, and the low rumbling feedback it created did something primordial, a deep seated comfort and relaxation came over her. A growl low in her belly rumbled out, similar to a Miqo’tes purr. “Like that.” She whispered. The action took new meaning delivered to her by her lover instead of a family member, but it was just as intensely comforting, moreso. She slumped, closing her eyes and focusing on the feedback rumbling in her horns, on the vibration travelling through her body. She was out of defences and for the first time in too long she didn’t fear her vulnerability. 

Estinien chuckled, a soft quirked grin adorning his face. “I had no idea Au Ra purred.” 

“It’s not technically a purr.” She exhaled and her eyes fluttered when he dragged his nails along her hornes, the feedback it created sparked her nerves coalescing between her thighs. “It’s a growl….like a river croc...but person shaped.” 

“Person shaped?” He asked, amused, moving behind her.

“Have you ever heard a river croc growl? I promise you would not find it so cute to hear me make such a noise.” She cracked her eye open, and stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder. 

Estinien hummed, “so many new sounds.” He tilted her head up to get the last of the shampoo out. He lowered his hands and began to wash her back, clever fingers rubbing at sore muscles, until he reached her tail.

“I’m learning so much.” He murmured against her wet skin. Again tugging into soft scales. She groaned, and her growl grew an octave deeper. Her pulse began beating a sharp tempo centered in her core. 

Estinien’s hands settled at her hips, brushing her scales with his thumbs, following them down her thighs with his long fingers and back up again. Her growl traveled up her throat, louder. He circled her waist from behind, and his palms encompassed her small breasts, the slick of the soap blunting his callouses, she arched into his touch. He slid his hands in opposite directions, one sliding up to circle her rumbling throat to feel the vibrations she was creating. He pulled her against his chest and she slid against his skin feeling every hard muscle, her tail snaked around one of his thick thighs. He hissed, cock trapped against her rumbling body. His other hand tracked lower. She opened her legs, anticipation singing in her blood, but the sudden movement jostled her ankle and she made a small sound of pain.

“Gently.” He chided. He spread his fingers against her stomach, the tips tracing the soft patch of ivory scales that adorned her pubic bone. He tracked lower, sliding along her outer lips before probing a finger further, finding her slick with want. Her growl filled the space, she never knew she could be this loud, had never let anyone see the more animalistic side of her, not even Aymeric, and she’d been prepared to marry him. It spoke of her trust, to embrace her instincts and be unashamed of them. 

“You will be the death of me.” He moaned against her hair, now rinsed, rivulets of water obscured her vision, not that she could see much past the haze of her lust. He shifted his hand from her throat to cup her jaw, thumb swiping along her lips, and Shiloh opened hungry, greedy, until Estinien slid it into her mouth. She sucked, tongue and teeth in imitation to what she would do to his cock, and it twitched against her back, his hips rolling in time with her tongue and lips. The hand between her legs circled her clit in lazy circles. She leaned back and opened her legs wider, each pass of his thumb on her tongue, of his finger on her clit drove her higher. 

“Can’t breath.” She moaned out, Shiloh’s head lolled releasing his thumb. The heat and the steam, coupled with her boiling blood making her dizzy and light headed. Black shadows danced around her vision, and her growl guttered out. “Estinien.” 

Estinien stopped his ministrations, cradling her in his arms, shifting her to the ground so he could turn off the water. He left her briefly, cool air slid along her fevered body, she filled her lungs and already she started feeling better. 

Shiloh found herself wrapped in a decadently soft towel, and being carried out of the shower, set back down on the counter. She should be more embarrassed, or annoyed at how often he lifted and carried her, she wasn’t incapable. Yet she found she enjoyed being doted on, being cared for, so rarely was she afforded a chance to be weak without shame.

  
  


Once the room stopped spinning she gave Estinien a shy lopsided grin. “Thank you.” 

His answering smile was punctuated by a grunt. He pulled out his first aid kit, and a long coiled bandage. He set to work drying her leg, and began bandaging her ankle with practised ease.He bandaged her ankle, rather expertly she admitted to herself. 

“Lots of ankle injuries in dragoon training,” Estinien remarked when he caught her inspecting his work. 

“It was wrists in Conjury training.” A wave of anxiety crept up her spine, and suddenly she felt shy, her lust tempered. “Thank you...again” She stood, gently placing some weight on her leg. Still painful, but a dull ache rather than sharp. “So...uh.” She turned, hands fiddling with her towel, “Your room? Or mine?” 

  
  


Estinien pushed himself off from where he’d been leaning, and approached her, eyes soft, slightest smile. “If you’d rather not, we don’t have to take it any further.” 

  
  


Estinien’s towel hung perilously low on his hips, and even knowing what lay beneath, Shiloh found herself entranced with the jut of his hip, and the dusting of white hair on his lower stomach. Wondering idly if he was ticklish. No, she was still very much interested, she was still mystified he wanted her, that he loved her, had loved her for as long as he did. Not understanding what he saw to cause him to look and touch her with so much reverent gentleness. 

  
  


“I do! Want to. Take it further that is.” She cleared her throat, “it’s just that, my head just caught up to my actions, and I don’t…” Estinien canted his head at her. “Don’t regret it!! I don’t regret anything, don’t think that I do...I’m nervous. The last time I did this was..” She didn’t want to think about Emet-Selch or the twisted games they’d played, “I was in a bad place.” She pulled her towel tight around her, “and I don’t want to ruin it, or disappoint you, or--” He crossed to Shiloh and lowered the makeshift hood her towel made. 

“I would purge your last time from your mind then.” He bent to kiss her, and she clutched her towel to her chest like he hadn’t already touched every ilm of her. “I’ve a mind to test the resiliency of my carpentry skills, your room.” And there is something dark and predatory in the glint of his eyes that stoked her lust back to life. . 

She moved with a confidence she didn’t quite feel, but if she didn’t move she’d lose her nerve. Shiloh wanted him, she wanted what he was promising her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so hungry with selfish need. She tugged her towel off, revealing ivory scales and flushed skin, and a tail in near constant motion, she felt his gaze like a physical caress. She reached for him, caressing his hips, threading her fingers through the downy white hair tracking from his navel to his crown. Estinien’s skin jumped at her touch, so she lightly scratched him for no other reason than to watch lust paint his features. She gripped his towel and inclined her head. His answer was a hard kiss, large hands gripping her thighs and lifting her off the counter. His towel fell from his hips, forgotten. She wrapped around him, shifting up to slot her hungry lips against his, and he carried her to the bedroom. The drag of her stiff nipple across the hard plain of his chest sent jolts to her apex. Anticipation a levin bolt that danced along her spine.

She bit his ear, “my voice isn’t nearly hoarse enough, yet.” 

“A terrible oversight.” He rumbled against her horn.

Shiloh sank into the mattress of the bed, awkwardly scrambling backwards as he prowled after her, a self satisfied smirk quirking his lips. Finally she fell against the pillow and he caught her lips in a slow, and searing kiss, his still damp hair spilling around them like moonlight. Estinien settled between her legs, his hands, mouth, and tongue intent on memorizing every gasp, and moan, and lust addled noise he could wring out of her. Shiloh happily obliged, wanton and vulnerable, free, and safe. She bucked beneath him, a weak roll of her hips, her injury preventing a more aggressive approach. 

He grabbed one of her legs, bending it at the knee, wrapping her around his waist, and ground against her wet folds coating his straining cock in her slick. Her hips moved, and another moan worked free. She had so many for him, all stored inside her somewhere, and Estinien was a quick study coaxing each one out from that little birdcage in her chest. She sighed when he kissed her collarbone, leaning into him so that he could set his teeth into her neck.They were pinpricks, his bites, hot and sharp, the pain grounding her to the moment, snuffed out quickly by the soothing softness of his lips. Impossibly gentle and possessive in equal measure. He took dainty pink nipples into his mouth and sucked and laved at them until they were glistening, pert, and oversensitive, the silk of his hair featherlight on her skin in the wake of the fire his mouth left. 

Estinien traveled down her torso to her hips, mapping scars like constellations when he paused and hooked her legs over his shoulders. He licked into her greedily, parting her folds with his tongue, lapped the taste of her into his mouth. It carried the pleasure from her to him and back again as Estinien flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit, sucked on her lips. With his tongue held flat and wide he could get all of her at once. He does so until her breaths pile onto each other, uncontrollable; he plied her until she was teetering and weak and desperate dripping into his mouth, coating his chin. Tail lashing a tempo against the bed. Fingers dug deep into his silken hair. 

“Please, Estinien” His name is a benediction, his every touch a prayer

Shiloh’s back bowed when he slipped a finger inside of her wet heat, and still he continued, slipping a second finger inside, rubbing that place within her that made her buck, that made her pull his hair and face closer. She felt his moan against her skin while his tongue slid incessantly against her folds, against her clit, until there was nothing but starbursts in front of her eyes and levin in her blood, until Shiloh’s voice spiraled up into the air, sounding unmistakably of a woman at the mercy of her lover.

Estinien granted her no quarter, allowing a single breath before he’s kissing her with a growl in his throat, and she’s tasting herself, sucking the sweet tang from his tongue. His expression is near manic, feral in its intensity. He folded her nearly in two, knees tucked against his chest, and his beautiful, straining cock was parting her folds. He drove into her, she was more than ready for him, and he filled her, the stretch scattering her mind, her nerves were strings to be plucked, and Estinien played upon them with each roll of his hips. Time stopped with the feeling of him, asynchronous heartbeats building to a crescendo. She tore weals into his shoulders, her voice a ragged note. Estinien drove the air from her and her moans broke with his tempo, the bed shifted beneath them as he fucked her into the mattress. 

“Estinien, please, I need... I need,” Shiloh cried out near sobbing. And Estinien opened her legs from where they were tucked against his chest, not once stopping the punishing roll of his hips. She wrapped around his waist, the change in position tearing another ragged moan from her lips. 

“What do you need?” He dropped open mouthed kisses on her neck and collar bone, his voice a broken and deep growl. 

“You.” She whined out. 

“I’m yours. Always, I am yours.” He moaned in answer. He brushed damp hair from her eyes, and the raw love shining down at her was enough to prick tears. Those answering words are dancing on her tongue, her heart beating out of time, and squeezing with so much emotion she can’t breath, so she drowned in him instead. Pulling him into a kiss, pulling him down on her, she wanted to feel every inch of him, feel his weight pressing down on her. The heel of her good leg dug into the taut muscle of his ass, and urged him into her, harder, faster, more. 

He caged her, supporting himself on his elbows, and she arched up to meet him, thrust for thrust. He coiled around her, an arm wrapping around her shoulders the other holding her hips at the angle he wanted, and all she could breathe was him, and all she could feel was the unabated pleasure as they chased their end. Estinien rutted, Shiloh could only hold on as he rocked them, his hips pistoning shallow thrusts as she ground on his pelvis with her clit. She bit his pale neck, hard, marking his skin, licking up his neck to reach his ears. She bit and suckled on his lobe, on the sensitive point, her breath and her lust fanning against his heated skin. A dam broke and Estinien cried into her skin, their voices a chorus of unbridled want. She could feel herself falling, saw the stars bursting in her peripheral, felt her nerves pulsing with her heart, and he pushed her over the edge to careen into a second soul shattering orgasm. He followed, and Estinien was loud when he came, his voice a ragged dark thing sinking into her bones. They clutched at each other as his hips stilled and painted her aching cunt with his hot seed.

They lay together, a tangle to limbs, hearts racing, breathing in time. She felt his forehead on hers, and he’s saying something, but she just squeezed her eyes shut, her pulse filling her horns unhearing. He shifted, she gulped down air in a shuddering inhale and it’s then that she realized her cheeks were wet. 

“Shiloh, are you alright? Did I hurt you?” And the soft concern of his voice is punctuated by the drag of gravel left behind from his shouted release. Slowly he pulled out of her, and the loss of him is bittersweet relief, all she can do is whimper. “Shiloh.”

“I’m ok.” She said, her voice ruined. Her eyes flutter open, and Twelve save her, he’s so achingly beautiful. He brought a finger to her cheek, wiping away the tear tracks. 

“Are you sure?” 

She nodded, “yes, a little overwhelmed, but good, I promise. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.” 

“And what way might that be?” He husked against her skin, peppering soft kisses across her face. She realized he was kissing her freckles, her poor heart is in her throat, and a new track of tears spilled from her eyes.

“Wrecked, ruined, raw...it’s hard to think right now, but it’s good.” Her voice breaks. “I think we may need another shower.” 

Estinien chuckled, and shook his head. “Stay right there, I’ll clean you up.” He rolled away, the bed dipping from his weight, and she watched him through half lidded eyes, spied the red scratches on his upper back, the bright red mark on his throat, his hair delectably disheveled. She smiled, a peace she didn’t entirely trust settled over her. 

Shiloh draped an arm over her eyes, and tried to master the emotion that kept shaking tears out of her. Does her level best not to think too deeply about the fear that gripped her, tried not to think at all. Estinien returned and used a warm wet cloth on her thighs and folds. He’s beside her again, and he gathered her into his arms, she shuddered at the relief of being held, of being cared for. Somehow he maneuvered them under the covers, trailing his long fingers over the paths her scales make. 

“Estinien?” 

He hummed in response and she glanced at his face seeing the same tiredness she felt. 

“What happens next?” 

  
  


“Personally, I’d like to sleep.” 

  
  


“That’s not--” 

  
  


He rolled and pulled her back against his chest, careful of her horns. “Shhh, we can worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.” He kissed her head, “sleep.” 

She thread her fingers in his where they rested against her stomach. Tomorrow then. Sleep came fast, lulled as she was by his breathing, and the slow beat of his heart. She didn’t dream. 


	9. Unspoken Oath - NSFW Estinien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me so much trouble, but I'm pleased with the end result. Fluffy fluffy goodness cause these two deserve a soft moment.

There was a moment between sleep and consciousness where there was no guilt, no fear, no shame. It was ephemeral, and full of peace, easy to miss, easy to let the waking mind run it over with thoughts and obligations and duty. Estinien found himself steeped in that haze, half awake, his muscles not immediately jumping to attention, his mind blessedly quiet, his senses full of the cloying scent emanating from the sleep warmed body wrapped around him. Orange blossoms. He curled into it, a slight movement, the half closed fist resting on his chest shifted, and she sighed, breath puffing across his skin. It’s late, because the light was intruding even from behind his closed lids, Estinien can’t remember the last time he’d woken after the sun, likely when he’d been confined to his infirmary bed. Shiloh shifted, hooking a leg over his thigh, making another small noise. 

When he did open his eyes he’s met with a riot of blonde hair, the filtered light through the curtained window painting her in soft lilacs, and pale pinks. Estinien’s heart skipped, disbelief, perhaps he wasn’t awake after all, perhaps it was a dream. Shiloh looked peaceful, deep breaths fanning his skin, her mouth slightly open. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to affirm that the memories that flooded him of the night before were real, and not imagined. Yet he dared not wake her, dared not break the dreamlike spell cast over him, content to watch her sleep so comfortably in his arms. 

Shiloh shifted again, nuzzling her face further into his skin, kissing him softly. “Back to sleep.” she mumbled. 

“I am asleep.” He rumbled back to her. “I think.” 

She turned half lidded golden eyes up at him, with an amused and sleepy smile. “So this is a dream?” 

Estinien turned on his side, hitching her leg over his hip, pulling her close. “How else might you have ended up in my bed?” 

“My bed.” She said. “Remember?” 

“Right, my mistake.” He traced the skin along her spine, and she arched into him, like a stretching cat. 

“There is one way we can figure out if this is actually a dream or not.” Lith fingers were on his flanks, drawing lazy patterns on his skin, following a scar to his back, Estinien shivered. 

“Oh?” 

She pushed him gently to lay on his back, her nimble fingers traveled down his chest, his hips, to find him hard and aching. She slid her hands around his member, pumping him slowly, he released his breath in a huff. She moved between his legs and he opened them to accommodate her slight frame, the blankets hung from her shoulders, her hair mussed, the light streaming from the window leaving her hallowed. It had to be a dream. She was too beautiful to be real. 

“You know how in dreams, they end before you can finish?” She pumped him slowly, adding a second hand, the blanket fell from one of her shoulders, she was bare, small breasts swaying with her ministrations. Estinien refused to close his eyes, afraid that if he did he would wake. 

“Hmm?” Was the only answer he could manage. 

  
  


“Let’s finish. If we wake in a sweat, in our respective beds, you’re right, a dream.” She swiped her thumb over the bead of slick leaking from his head. “But if we reach our pleasure together,” She pumped him again, squeezing him, and he rolled his hips into her talented hands, “then this is all real.” 

  
  


He’d meant to answer with a clever quip, something to make her smile, but her mouth was on him and whatever he was going to say died in his throat, replaced by a heady moan. Her hand pumped in counterpoint to her wet mouth, her tongue was teasing and slick, the ridges of her palate running against his head, until he was slipping down her throat. 

“Fury, Shiloh.” He ground out, it took every onze of willpower not to buck into her, instead he thread his fingers into her hair, brushing the messy blonde strands from her face. She was looking up at him, the honeyed gold of her eyes near luminescent in the early morning light. She slid him further down, and swallowed around him. Estinien fell back against the pillow, the wet sound of Shiloh’s ministrations and his own panting groans filling the quiet morning air. He gripped her hair tightly, pulling, not meaning to, but she moaned when he did, the reverberations shooting levin up his spine. 

Tentatively, he released her hair, watching her. She was still looking up at him, tears like diamonds at the corners of her eyes from the effort of taking so much of him into her mouth, of holding him so deeply in her throat. He touched her horns, a wordless question. She answered by swallowing around him, and nodding, and Estinien wasn’t one to refuse her. He ran his hands along her horns, remembered the pressure she liked from the day before, remembered how she’d shivered when he used his nails. Her growl was deep, the vibrations traveling up her body, and he could have released right then when those vibrations surrounded his cock. Both of her hands were on his hips, the bite of her nails a counterpoint to the mind numbing pleasure of her mouth. He was buried to the hilt, her nose flush with pelvis. Her moan joined with her growl and he felt everything, eyes rolling, control fraying. She scratched weals down his thigh before she cupped his jewels, rolling them in the spit that dripped from her mouth, tugging just so, sliding her thumb to the space between, rubbing slow circles. His every muscle was tense, overwrought with pleasure.

Shiloh pulled away with a gasp, a string of spittle linking her to his throbbing cock before she licked her swollen lips. Estinien had no words for her, he sat up pulling her to him and crushed his lips to hers, tasting the salt of his anticipation on her tongue. She would be the death of him, and he would welcome it.

“You are wicked.” He rasped when he finished kissing her. He cupped her face, searching for the ruse to reveal itself. “How are you real?” 

“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine.” She shrugged her shoulders with a rueful half smile, and he chuckled. Estinien lowered his forehead to hers, Shiloh brushed her nose against his, and his soul sang, the inherited aether, the inherited instinct making every part of him hum in response to her.

“Shiloh, I --” She stopped his words with her fingers on his lips. Recapturing him in a kiss. His need thrummed an insistent beat. Estinien pulled her closer, until she was straddling his hips, and her chest was flush with his. Her hands were in his hair, and when he licked into her she moaned into his mouth and pulled back, breaking the kiss. 

“I’m not done.” She husked, gently pushing him to lay back down. 

Slowly, agonisingly, she ground herself up his cock, bottom to top, coating him with her slick. Estinien's want rent the air. She braced herself on his chest, and rolled her hips, again and again chasing her pleasure and driving him to madness. Estinien watched her face, watched her eyes flutter, and her mouth hang open in a wordless cry, watched the burning blush travel across her body, making her scales fairly glow. And when he could barely think for the delicious torment she inflicted on him, Shiloh sheathed herself with a decisive roll of her hips. His entire body jumped, the sudden moan of surprise closer to a yell. His hands gripped into her hips, and he reveled in her tight wet heat. Still he couldn’t tear his eyes from her, from the rapture on her face, and he bucked up until her growl and her cries of pleasure filled the room. She rode him, lost in the rhythm of her lust, and the moment she faltered, he gripped her hips tighter, helping her find her peak, her gasps timed with every savage descent. He felt her release with the way she gripped him, with the way she arched, with the way she scratched at his chest, Estinien did not relent. Every nerve snapping in pleasure bordering pain, he’s so close. He picked up the tempo just short of unsustainable, Shiloh a babbling mess above him. 

“Touch yourself.” His voice was deep with want. 

Shiloh’s eyes fluttered open and she obeyed, dragging fingers across her sweat sheened chest and into her mouth. An instant later her fingers were on her clit, and she was squeezing around him, her breaths a series of keening moans. Estinien snapped up, harder, so close to his end. “Again.” He said. And she did, biting her lip, her eyes screwed shut, as trembling fingers circled her pearl, she rippled around him falling apart again, her lyrical voice ragged, sobbing. The tension building in him broke to see her so completely undone. He found his peak, and careened off the edge, levin and fire dancing on his skin in waves, each stronger than the last. Black stars dotted his vision, all he could feel was his finish, as he stuttered; the hold on her hips bruising as he emptied into her. A groan and a curse leaving him in turn.

She fell forward breathing hard, their hearts beating erratic tempos. Estinien cradled her in his arms, running his hands up and down her back, his member slipping from her. 

“Real then.” Estinien said, panting out his breaths.

“Real.” Shiloh agreed, pillowing her head on his chest. 

The air shifted between them, a new tension, something uncertain. Real was tangible, held consequences. The weight of the world pressed down, held at bay by the cocoon of warmth they’d created together, but it remained just out of reach, alongside their history, alongside their demons and their pain. As much as Estinien yearned to keep her safe, and warm, and loved, hidden from responsibility, he had no idea what he was doing, all he knew was his heart in this matter. He had precious little experience when it came to matters of the heart, and mistrusted it’s whispers. The dragon soul humming within was no help, speaking only to his baser instincts. He knew he wanted to stay with her, and Estinien never wanted to stay, not for long at least. Permanence was a frightening concept. Yet the idea of walking into the seven hells at Shiloh’s side held no fear. Her hand swept his bangs from his eyes, and he blinked up at her.

“It’s ok if you’re having second thoughts.” She whispered. 

Estinien rolled them to their sides, face to face. “That’s not- You’re not the only one who isn’t any good at this.” 

“We make quite the pair.” She pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart and he grasped it in his, squeezing, pulling her fingers to his lips. 

“It needn’t go further if you are unwilling.” Speaking the words hurt, “If all we remain is friends, I am glad for it.” A heartbeat passed, then another, he couldn’t name the expression she gave him, how she studied his face, searching for a truth, or, mayhap, a lie.

“I-I’m willing to try, if you are.” 

“I’m willing.” He answered on an exhale, kissing her fingers again.

Shiloh huffed a laugh, pressing her forehead to his, nudging his face closer until she was kissing him, soft and slow, an affirmation and a promise. A prayer beat through his heart, that she might smile like that more often, and that he was the cause. Fury, let him love her in all the ways she deserved to be loved. 

  
  


__

  
  


They managed, after some effort, and a number of failed attempts, to shower, and dress. The sun was already high in the sky, and the day's heat was offset by the breeze flowing from the Ruby sea. Estinien would have been content to have spent the day in bed, discovering every inch of Shiloh’s skin, mapping her scales and scars, but she had latched onto an idea, and insisted they pack a picnic lunch. So he found himself supporting her with one arm, with a basket of food in the other, as she limped searching for something. 

“Shiloh, what are you looking for?” 

“Somewhere the elementals would congregate.” Was her cryptic answer.

She smiled up at him from the beneath the brim of her especially large straw hat. She wore a white sundress, and Estinien wanted nothing more then to peel it off of her, to throw her over his shoulder and carry her home, but she’d insisted, said it was the first step in regaining her use of white magic, and hadn’t that been the point from the beginning. So he’d acquiesced, because he never could deny her, and he wasn’t about to start. 

Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Estinien rolled his eyes at her, “and where would the elementals congregate?” 

“I’ll know it when I see it!” She looked passed him, to the edge of the park they were strolling in, a pack of auri children running past them, launching a kite into the air. “There. That tree by the pond is a good spot.” 

“You were just looking for some shade.” 

“I was not!” She cried incredulously, “ok, I was, but truly, it’s a good spot, all the elements have easy access to each other, the water, the earth and the wind, it’ll be easy to commune with them. Come on.” 

“Your training could have waited a day, or two.” He groused.

“Are you pouting? You said yourself, during our second shower, that you had nothing left to fill me with. We needed to take a break, it’s a beautiful day, and this is important, Estinien.” 

“Aye, aye.” He set the picnic basket down and pulled the blanket out, laying it in the shade of the tree. Shiloh pulled her sun hat from her head and bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “What next?” He watched as she shuffled closer to the water, and carefully sat on a flat rock on the water's edge. 

She reached for him, and he sat cross legged in front of her, grasped her proffered hands. “Next we smoke that moko grass I packed.” Shiloh gave him a conspiratorial smile. He leaned back and pulled out the small pipe and dried herb. 

“Honestly, you never struck me as the type. What does getting stoned have to do with communing with your elementals?” 

“The padjals say it increases spiritual connections by lowering inhibitions allowing conjurers to better hear the elemental’s whispers.” She took the pipe from him, and set to work packing it with the pungent dried bud. “Not technically wrong, it does have a psychoactive effect but you’re more likely to fall asleep in a field then make any flowers grow if you have no talent for aether manipulation.” 

“You lost me again, make the flowers grow?” Estinien leaned his head in his hands, watching. He’d smoked moko grass before, as a younger man, still a temple knight, hiding in an alley in the Brume with Aymeric between needy groping. A lifetime ago. 

“Sorry, the communion is an offering of service in exchange for flowers, it’s a test to see if the elementals give their blessings for the larger and more complicated spells.” Shiloh struck the match on the stone she was sitting on, bringing the pipe to her lips, and lighting the dried herb, inhaling. Pungent, acrid smoke filled the air between them, and when she blew it out, it curled around her, eerily similar to the way her aether had when he’d found her in the Doctor’s lab. “If the elementals accept the conjurers aether, they use it to grow a flower in the shape of that conjurer's aether. Each flower is unique, and is typically used in the construction of their first wand.” She offered Estinien the pipe. Estinien accepted it, and inhaled the smoke. It burned his throat, and his lungs rebelled when he held it too long, causing him to cough before he handed the pipe back to her. 

“Is your flower a lily?” The memory of the bloody lily blooming in her hand with the lifeforce of her enemy was clear in his mind's eye. Shiloh took her time with the pipe, inhaling and exhaling the smoke, letting it curl around her before the wind carried the acrid smoke away, avoiding the question, but eventually she nodded. 

“Shiloh the Blood Lily. That’s what’s recorded in Stillfane Glade in the official record of the Conjury guild, my first official title, before I was even an adventurer. Much of my magic takes on that form, a lily with a red center...That trick with the Doctor was only the second time I killed with it.” She knocked the ash from the pipe with a loud tap. Despite the clear day a cloud hung over her, and Estinien took her hands, running his thumbs over her knuckles.

“He deserved what he got.” Shiloh was looking at their hands, her expression troubled, and nodded at his words. “Shiloh, you saved me from a bullet in the back.” She squeezed his fingers.

“I know. I know he did, it’s not that. I’m just...scared, terrified of trying this, of failing, of succeeding. If I look like I’m in pain...or, If I start crying out-”

“I’ll be here to bring you back.” 

“It shouldn’t come to that, this isn’t a spell in the traditional sense, the aether use is passive-”

“I’ll be here.” He touched her face, and after a moment she relaxed, leaning into his touch. 

“Thank you.” 

She exhaled, and Estinien brought her hands up to his lips. Shiloh crossed her legs, spreading her skirt around her, leaned up to place a delicate kiss on his lips and withdrew her hands resting them on her knees. He returned to sit against the tree, Shiloh closed her eyes, and he wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but the children in the distance continued to play, the wind flitted through the branches of the trees, the cicadas sang their incessant song, and nothing more. The only movement from Shiloh was what the wind managed to disturb. Estinien stretched out, laying flat and pillowing his head with his hands. 

Half dozing in the filtered sunlight, he cracked an eye open casting an assessing glance towards his lover. Somewhere between their love making she’d told him of her conversation with Krile, of how she was trusting him to watch over Shiloh as she attempted to re-master her magicks. It was nothing short of what he’d already vowed, but having the trust of the Baldesion woman was more satisfying then he would admit. For the first time in moons he was reminded of Tataru’s offer for him to join the Scions, for the first time ever, he gave the suggestion some serious thought, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea. He didn’t want to think about what would happen when she was called back to the world outside of the haven they’d created. He knew only that he wasn’t ready to part with her. 

When next Estinien opened his eyes he sat up, something was definitely happening. Their spot by the tree had been grassy, it was now bursting with wildflowers, growing and blooming right before his eyes, in front of Shiloh stood a tall Nymian Lily with three blooms, each with a red center snaking outward. She looked as serene as she had when she’d started, no signs of distress. Was there supposed to be this many flowers? Behind him he heard a small gasp. One of the auri children, a little girl, had caught sight of Shiloh’s display, and slowly crept forward until she was sitting beside Estinien. 

“Is she one of the hidden princesses?” She whispered, big blue eyes wide without an onze of fear looking up at him. Another gasp. “Are you her knight?!”

“She’s not a princess she’s a flower Kami!” This time a boy, carrying the kite they’d been playing with, two more children trailing behind him. 

Before he could shoo them away the children had settled with him on the blanket, the small hands of the youngest curiously delving into the picnic basket. Estinien snapped the lid closed, and gave the child his best glower and the little one retreated behind the one with the kite. The fourth, an older girl wearing glasses raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

“Shion it’s not nice to take other people’s food.” Hands on hips she turned to Estinien, “besides, she’s probably using magic, right?” 

“She is trying to focus, and you lot are being far too noisy.” He growled out exasperated. 

They all closed their mouths, but remained where they sat. The silence lasted all of a half dozen moments. 

“Princesses can use magic, you know.” The blue eyed girl added helpfully. 

“So can the Kami!” the boy with the kite. 

“Can I have a snack?” The little one, Shion. 

“We have snacks at home.” The eldest.

“But he has rice balls, please mister, can I have a rice ball?” 

“Rice balls, what kind? I like the ones with the plum filling.”

“I didn’t know knights ate rice balls.” 

“Do you fight with a sword?” 

“My favorite colour is pink, what’s yours?” 

Estinien felt a vein throb in his forehead, and took a deep breath. Shiloh seemed entirely unbothered by the noise. 

“I...am a knight, from Ishgard, my friend is not a princess, nor is she one of the Kami. She is trying to meditate though, and needs to focus. I fight with a lance, not a sword, and my favorite colour is-” He plucked one of the multitudes of blooming flowers now carpeting the area, this one with deep violet petals. “Purple.” He held up a finger for silence before they could unleash a second barrage of questions. “If you would like to share in our rice balls I’ll need something in return.” He had their rapt attention now. “Each of you, go and gather as many flowers as you can carry and bring them back here. She may not be a princess, but I don’t see why we can’t give her a crown.” 

“Can..can I have a flower crown too?” The blue eyed girl asked shyly, and Estinien gave her a long stare before winking at her. 

“Would you like me to show you how to make one yourself?” He asked. She nodded enthusiastically in reply. 

“Hey mister knight, what’s your name?” The boy with the kite asked. 

“Estinien. And who might you be?” 

“I’m Haru, that’s my older sister Yuna, and my little brother Shion, and she’s my best friend, Ayame.” Haru pointed to each child in turn, and with that they got to work gathering the wildflowers. 

Estinien couldn’t help remembering Ferndale as he watched the children. He was reminded of when he and Hamignant would gather flowers to weave into a flower crown for their mother. The sheep slowly munching on clover, while they bickered over which flowers to use, arguing about what colours to use.Their mother loved each and every offering. Proudly wearing the crown each evening while she prepared the evening meal, their father coming in from the fields and pronouncing her the Queen of flowers, and commending her dutiful knights. How he and his brother would puff with pride at his words. Remembering was less painful, less coloured by hate. More of a dull ache like an ever present bruise on his heart, but remember them he did, because he was the only one who could. He twirled the purple flower in his fingers, gaze drifting back to Shiloh, and he could swear he saw a smile on her serene face. 

A half bell passed and the children returned with armfulls of flowers. He tasked them with separating them by colour. He was surprised that his fingers remembered how to weave the crown, but the muscle memory remained, underneath all the training and all the death. The children watched, and mimicked. Estinien stopped every so often to help them and show them how to keep them from falling apart, offering advice, and eventually they all had completed crowns for their efforts. None of them noticed Shiloh rise from the rock by the pond. 

“I see you’ve made some friends.” Shiloh crouched beside him. He lifted an eyebrow at her. 

“A crown, for the Queen of flowers.” Estinien set the flower crown on her head, woven from lavender, and lilac, mauve and violet. Her answering blush warmed his heart. He would need to surprise her with another. 

“Thank you, good ser.” She leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips, the children around them groaned in disgust. Estinien chuckled and kissed her again just to annoy them. Fair was fair after all. 

“Uugh, no more kissing.” Haru cried waving his finished crown at them. 

Shiloh sat and Estinien stretched out, using her lap as a pillow and closed his eyes, the children turned their curiosity on his lover. She was more than happy to oblige them, answering questions, and telling stories, her charisma was such that, even not knowing she was the Warrior of Light, the children hung on her every word. Shiloh had a way of pulling all into the warmth of her orbit, her presence had a way of lifting spirits, and their small audience was no exception. She opened the picnic basket, and handed out the rice balls. 

“Shall I feed you?” She asked with a laugh. Estinien opened his mouth and waited while the children giggled at his antics. Shiloh did feed him, fingers tantalizing against his lips, and suddenly he wanted to be home again, to taste more of her. To have her warmth, and her joy all to himself. 

“Estinien doesn’t have a crown.” Little Shion, with bits of rice stuck to his cheek announced, rather despondent. 

“I don’t know how to weave a crown, but I think we can weave the rest of flowers directly into his hair with plaits, what do you think?” Shiloh offered. Estinien did crack his eyes open at that to give Shiloh a disapproving glower. She simply gave him an unapologetic grin, and a wink. 

The afternoon whiled away, the sun crossing over the sky, until finally the children’s parents came looking for them for dinner. As quickly as they appeared they were gone in a flurry of farewells. Estinien’s hair was a riot of plaits and flowers, petals fell from his head when he stood. “I’m assuming by the sheer number of flowers that your communion with the elementals went well?” 

“It did, there was no pain, the elementals of this land are playful.” She plucked the lily stalk from the ground, touching the petals, tracing the spidering red colouring. “You’re surprisingly patient. After seeing you with the moogles, I didn’t expect that from you.” Shiloh said as they packed their belongings and made their way back to the house. 

“Moogles are lazy, manipulative, voidsent, children are innocent.” Her laugh was bright and clear. 

“They really are, that fluff is deceptive.” She linked her fingers with his and leaned against his arm. “Peace suits you.” 

“It suits you too.” He lifted their hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. 

Their peace, their joy, the unapologetic happiness they shared, it was worth fighting for. Whatever the world held for them, if they could come back to this he would move the heavens to return to it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you to the [Bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) Discord


	10. The Words - Shiloh NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I know  
> The scariest part is letting go  
> 'Cause love is a ghost you can't control  
> I promise you the truth can't hurt us now  
> So let the words slip out of your mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've switched the rating over to Explicit, these two can't keep their hands off of each other, and I foresee at least a couple more sexy chapter before I bring this fic to an end. I'm hoping to have this wrapped up in about 5 chapters, I hope you're enjoying the ride!

_Breath in, focus on the earth, call to wind and water, breath in, lift the earth, hold it, hold it, breath out._ Shiloh felt the sweat slip into her eyes, stinging, in front of her floated a boulder of middling size, it rotated in slow circles, the point of the spell was to quickly give it a spin, and then flood it with a push of wind aether transforming the boulder into a projectile, further afield was a target. The earth on the beach was a series of craters. She had yet to strike the target. 

She blinked, and the cacophony of breaking glass flooded her senses, aether turned to acid in her blood, she flinched. The small boulder fell with a crack. Shiloh clutched at her head and gasped in a breath. She no longer reacted as violently when the phantom sounds of her transformation assaulted her, but she trembled, she ground her teeth, the fear trapping her in that moment. Estinien was beside her in a moment, rubbing her arms, calling her name, bringing her back. She cried less, but the pain was no less sharp. Stone spells were simple but took focus and precision. She’d been quick to master them the first time. Knowing what she could do, and being unable to recreate it was beginning to wear. 

“I’m fine.” Shiloh stepped out of Estinien’s embrace, rolling her shoulders and tightened the grip on her staff, willing herself to stop shaking.

“You’re not.” Estinien was using his soft voice on her, he knew she couldn’t say no to him when he spoke to her like that. 

“I just want to hit the target once, I hit the target, we go home.” She turned to face the target, got into the proper stance, began reciting the words of the spell.

“The target will be there tomorrow.” Estinien grasped her staff, it was enough to jar her focus, and the spell died before it formed. With his hand on the staff holding it still, Shiloh could finally feel how hard she was trembling, and cursed herself. She relinquished the living branch. 

“I know you’re frustrated.” He stepped into her vision, but Shiloh wasn’t meeting his eyes. 

“It shouldn’t be this hard.” She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, pressing fingers into her eyes. 

“Last week you couldn’t lift the blasted thing out of the ground, you’re improving.” He wasn’t wrong. She didn’t bother arguing the point, still, her mood rankled. “Come on.” Estinien took her hand and led her towards the cave with the hot spring. 

Estinien had an uncanny sense of knowing precisely what it was she needed when her mood soured. Shiloh had the bad habit of resisting his care, and his entreaties for her to rest, he stayed with her anyways, cared for her anyways, going so far as laying on her bodily to force the rest she needed. That she didn’t resist him now was an indication of her exhaustion. It took a moment to divine his intent, but when she did she decided a soak in the hotspring was exactly what her body and mind needed.

  
  
It had been a fortnight since, well, since everything had changed. With Estinien’s confession, and their new open affection, it was as if the final puzzle piece had fallen into place. They clung to their hard won and temporary peace, knowing it could end at any point. Shiloh loved him, she did, even if the words stuck to the roof of her mouth, afraid if she spoke her feelings out loud it would wake them from this shared dream. Nothing good ever came from Shiloh confessing her love, so she held it in, to protect them both. Estinien, on the other hand, told her he loved her, regularly, usually when he thought she was sleeping, spoken into her hair with a kiss. Or maybe he knew full well she heard him, knew how much of a balm his whispered words were for her soul. To be loved by Estinien Wyrmblood was a heady feeling, and a part of her wondered when whatever spell she’d cast on him would break. She feared saying the words lest they wake him to his folly and he decided she was too much work, and no longer worth the reward. Estinien let her have this fear, and didn't rush her feelings. She loved him all the more for it. 

“What’s in that head of yours?” Estinien’s low timber interrupted her reverie, Shiloh blinked, she’d been staring at their joined hands. 

“You are, actually.” She gave him a crooked grin as they both started undressing. 

“Did I do something to deserve to be there?” He pulled off his shirt and gave her a lascivious smirk. 

“There was that thing you did with your tongue this morning.” Shiloh made a show of removing her smalls. 

Estinien was behind her in a stride, hands on her hips, she leaned into him, and closed her eyes, his touch was soft. She was hit with a wave of fatigue, and any thought of acting on their flirtations fled her. He circled her in his arms, holding her against his chest tightly, arms banded across her chest. Shiloh turned her head, careful not to nick him with the points of her horns, and rested against his chest, she listened to his heart beat, steady and slow, beautiful. He kissed the top of her head, the place above her horn, her temple. Shiloh clasped his arms in an attempt to return the hug, his body heat enveloped her and she hummed, content. The wind outside barreled through the cave in persistent gusts heralding the coming rain. When she shivered he gently pulled her towards the hot spring. She followed in after him, neither refusing to lose physical contact. When she stepped into the water Estinien pulled her into his lap, and she took up her place leaning against his chest listening to his heart. The heavy grey clouds that had been threatening all morning opened up. They watched the churning Ruby sea through the curtain of rain in comfortable silence. Between the heat of the spring, the steam, the rain and Estinien’s hand tracing slow circles on her back, Shiloh drifted to sleep. 

She couldn’t have slept long, Estinien’s rumbling voice roused her before she could be over boiled. Shiloh’s skin was tinged a rosy pink, her scales shimmered under the water. He lifted her, and sat her on the edge of the spring while she blinked herself awake. He fetched their towels. It was silly really, she could dry herself, she could walk,but there was something freeing and intimate in letting Estinien do it for her. He treated her vulnerability with so much reverence, and she felt guilty for her cowardice. He deserved to be told he was loved, often. He wrapped a towel around his waist and began to dry her. Shiloh reached out to cup his cheek in her hand, he stopped what he was doing and his cool blue eyes found hers, a question on his face. 

“I-” There they were, words that rattled her bones and danced on her tongue, “I love the way you take care of me.” She looked away, blaming the resulting flush on the steam and the soak in the hotspring. She didn’t deserve the soft smile he gave her in return for her words.

Estinien’s answer was to thread his hands into her damp hair cupping her face and kissing her crown, his lips lingering, “I love taking care of you.” his breath tickled her forehead. “However stubborn you may be.”

“I’m sorry I can’t-”

“You don’t need to say it.” He pulled back to look at her. “I know.” 

“I want to.” She whispered. “I will, one day, because I do.” 

“I do too.” He captured her lips in a slow searing kiss, and any doubt she may have had was summarily erased with the strength of his passion. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Every stroke of his tongue on hers fanned the flame between them, until there was nothing left but to surrender to the pyre. 

Shiloh wrapped her legs around Estinien’s narrow waist when he lifted her. The stone wall of the cave was cool against her heated skin, but rough, she didn’t rightly care at the moment, because Estinien’s cock slid between her folds teasing past her entrance to rub against her clit. Her head fell back against the wall, and he found her throat, nipping and licking the scales and skin, pulling needy sounds from her. She tried to lift her hips to meet him, but he held her still against the cave wall, pinning her with his hips, hands bruising against her thighs, Shiloh’s tail lashed a harsh tempo. Levin sparked between them, pooling in her lower back, in her clit, dancing along her skin at every point of contact. Estinien huffed out a desperate groan when her slick began coating his cock. Still he kept the slow drag of his cock along her cunt, teasing her clit with his length, driving her higher. He found the soft skin under her jaw and bit, leaving the indent of his teeth, laving his tongue over the sharp pain and bit again tasting her need through her throat. The louder her cries, the harder her nails on his skin, the more urgently his hips moved. He bent to her breasts, taking her nipples in his mouth, urging them taut with teeth and tongue. 

“Please, Estinien.” She thread her fingers through the white curtain of his hair and pulled, resulting in a harsh and guttural growl.

“Tell me what you need.” He rumbled against her horn, the sound sinking into her bones. 

“Estini-” He pinned her against the wall harder, she felt a jagged edge cut into her, but she didn’t care, the pain driving her higher. He slid his thumb between them, sliding against her clit in tight circles, breaking her into a million pieces. 

“What do you need?” He growled against her, giving Shiloh no quarter when her legs started shaking, when his touch was too much. She was cumming, dripping around nothing, his cock so near, and still he held her away, waiting for her to say it.

“Fuck me, please, fuck me.” Estinien shifted his hips to finally spear her, and she was hot, wet, and clenching. Shiloh’s ruined voice filled the cave, challenging the wind, and the thundering rain. 

Estinien drove deep inside of her until one orgasm rolled into another, the wind carrying her voice to the ocean. The now familiar stretch never failed to make her see stars, spots of black and white painted her vision and she dug her nails into his hair and pulled. The noises he made for her were music, a low desperate baritone laced with curses and her name as he pistoned into her harder, faster. The bite of stone on her back broke skin, and she gasped in momentary pain before he pressed into her harder, more desperate than before, and the pain became a counterpoint to the dizzying pleasure flooding her senses. 

Shiloh pulled him down to her, claiming his lips, swallowing his every moan, every growl, worrying his lower lip between her teeth before slipping her tongue into his perfect mouth. Her unspoken words enacted on his skin, with every touch, and gasped breath. _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ her mind reduced to that singular thought as her lungs burned for breath, knowing if she pulled from their desperate kiss she would say it. She would say it and ruin everything, so she kissed him harder, air be damned. She broke away only to scream and sob her release, so thoroughly wrecked she could barely put together coherent thought, save for the three words she feared most. 

“Fury, Shiloh.” Estinien moaned. His hips stuttered, his face beautiful in it’s ruin. He filled her, the warmth of his seed painting her insides. Shiloh kissed his jaw, the corner of his mouth, pressed her forehead to his. She traced his ears and felt his whole body shudder in response. _I love you_

When he let her down she winced, the scrapes on her back flaring to life in sharp pain. Instinctually she reached for her shoulder, focused on her back, a light green glow lit up her finger tips, and cool healing mana flowed to the affected area. A moment later the pain stopped and the broken skin knit back together. Estinien was staring at her eyes wide. 

“What?” Shiloh asked stupidly, before the full force of what she’d accomplished hit her. Then her surprise matched Estinien's. “I just-” she bounced on her heels, nearly falling, “It didn’t hurt, it didn’t...Estinien, it didn’t hurt!” It had been a simple cure spell, but for moons even that had eluded her. She threw herself into his arms and he lifted her in a bear hug. 

“What did you do differently?” He asked 

“I...wasn’t thinking about it, about the magic, or the spell. It was just an instinct I followed. I was thinking about how it stung and I didn’t want you to feel guilty, because I knew you would blame yourself.” Estinien held her, they were still nude, dripping with sweat and slick, but the blush that dusted his cheeks and touched his ears was endearing, she was right and he knew it, though he would never admit it. _I love you_. He chuckled at her excitement. 

“So we need to get you out of your head, a daunting task.” Estinien set her down, and they started cleaning themselves off and getting dressed. 

“Twelve strike me down as a fool, think on what you want your magic to accomplish. It’s the first bloody lesson. That’s why,” She gestured wildly toward the cave opening leading towards the beach. “Outside I was so preoccupied with lifting and forming the Stones, I never thought about what I wanted to do with them.” 

Shiloh hastily buttoned her shorts and slipped her tank top over her head, grabbing her staff before Estinien could stop her, and ran out into the rain. Just once, she would make the bloody stone spell hit the target. She ignored the yelled curse for her to stop, too excited, brimming with exhilaration. _Hit the target_ , a mantra in her mind, she kept her eyes on the painted rings, the boulder lifted from the earth and began to spin, flinging mud every which way, spattering her face and clothes, she smiled and bit her bottom lip and let fly. It hit the target with such force the wood shattered. Shiloh whooped a celebratory shout. 

“Did you see!” She turned towards Estinien through the curtain of rain. His arms were folded over his now near translucent white shirt, white hair dripping down his face. Though, he couldn’t hold his scowl, and bowed his head to shake it instead. “Aren't you proud of me?” she added with a look of feigned innocence. 

Her cheeks hurt from smiling and she bounded up to him, twirling in the wet sand before launching herself back into his arms. He caught her and his disapproval broke at her joy. She kissed him, cold and muddy and laughing. Estinien spun her in a circle, her legs flaring out behind her. It was such a small thing, these spells, Stone and Cure. Early spells, the first two she’d learned. They would not challenge Zenos, they would not fell a primal, but for the first time since absorbing Vauthry’s light her magic, her aether was her own again. 

“Very proud, but did you have to do it in the rain?” He shook his head, flinging his waterlogged bangs from his eyes. 

“You look like a sheepdog.” 

“And you are the most troublesome sheep I’ve ever had to herd.” Instead of putting her down he heaved her over his shoulder, slapping her backside, making her yelp.

“Put me down, I can walk.” She giggled breathless.

“You can walk, yes, but your legs tend to carry you into trouble, so I’m not inclined to let you use them.” He carried her, slapping her ass, pulling her tail, and tickling the underside of her knees, held firm on his broad shoulder through all her squirming and laughing and attempts at escape. The laughter shaking his body jostled her as she reached to slap him in turn, her arms too short to reach his perfect arse. He tickled her again and she screamed. 

“Is your reach a little short?” There was laughter in his voice. 

“Short? I’ll have you know I am TALL for an Auri woman. You’re just a dhamel.” 

“Dhamel?” Faux indignation colouring his voice, “I thought I was a sheepdog? Such a rude little sheep.” He swatted her behind again. 

“Seven hells, Estinien!” Shiloh screeched all the way home, tired, soaked, and happier than she’d been in far too long.

_I love you._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the endless encouragement from the Bookclub, if you're looking for an active ffxiv writer/reader/artist community, follow the link and join us at Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling [Bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)


	11. If You Let Me - Estinien NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! sorry for the wait, December was a busy month focusing on other writing projects, and then January was....well..it sure was. CW for this chapter: Semi-public oral sex, a bit of cum eating, possessive behavior. 
> 
> Oh look, there's a bit of plot in there too, probably will be the last NSFW chapter for a bit (unless I change my mind.. >.> )

Footsteps slapped against wet sand at a sprint, kicking up a spray of water behind the long, powerful legs. Estinien could jump, it would be faster, but he wasn’t hunting alone. Just within his peripheral vision, Shiloh kept pace, her physical stamina mostly recovered with their daily sojourns out into the ruby sea and Yanxia. He kept his sights on his quarry, a particularly big gyuki, a rutting male that had been terrorizing a nearby fishing village. Estinien pointed to his left, and heard Shiloh veer in that direction to flank the beast, while he lept, aiming his lance at the creature's thick neck. Shiloh summoned a barrage of stones pummeling the animal, holding it’s attention until a screaming bellow filled the air. Estinien pierced it’s hide. Nidhogg had dug deep, but the thick layer of blubber these animals had meant he would need to pierce again to reach its vitals. The gyuki's scream attracted more of them, mean spirited and aggressive, and swarming Shiloh. 

With the alpha’s attention on Estinien, Shiloh set a shimmering shield to encompass their location. The magics wouldn’t keep the beasts out, but it would keep them better protected, it felt like a cooling breeze had encompassed him, and he felt the prickle of her aether on his skin. She waited for the animals to come to her. Estinien for his part lept from the Alpha gyuki, drawing it closer to Shiloh, keeping his eyes off of the coalescing light gathering in the foci of her staff. The strength of her magic lifted her from the ground, surrounding her bodily with shimmering light, she opened her arms and lifted her staff. The crack of discordant bells was close to deafening, the flash of light as bright as any Hingan firework. The herd of Gyuki stood stunned, frozen in place, but it wouldn’t last and already Shiloh was gathering light magic into her staff again. She could manage three casts of Holy before being overwhelmed. Estinien lept, and with pinpoint accuracy drove into the Alpha’s open wound burrowing deeper still, sliding into the beast easier than the last time, finding an artery that spurted and gushed. The creature shook and screamed in its death throes, the second Holy burst above him, ringing in his ears. The alpha stopped moving below him, Shiloh started channeling her magics for her third and final spell, he pulled out a wicked serrated knife, and cut off one of the beast's tusks. 

As soon as the spell lit and thundered the area around them Estinien leaped to Shiloh’s side. She leaned heavily on her staff, a grim look of determination on her face. The Gyuki were already beginning to stir, the magic’s stun not holding nearly as long as the first two casts. Estinien swept her into his arms, “ready?” Shiloh nodded in answer, gripping her staff in one hand and his neck in the other. With his aether channeled into his legs he jumped, dropping them onto a high cliff, well out of reach of the colony of Gyuki they’d disturbed. 

“Are you hurt?” Shiloh asked once he’d set her back on her feet. Without waiting for an answer Estinien felt her magic pulse through his body. He bit back a groan, it felt far too good, combined with the adrenaline still pumping through his veins he felt almost light headed, his blood pooling in his nethers. 

“Fine.” Estinien caught her hand in his to stop her ministrations. “It’s all the beast's blood, not mine.” 

“Right, of course.” She sighed out leaning against a nearby rock. Shiloh’s magical stamina was still fragile, she was getting stronger, to be sure, but lengthy battles were still dangerous, her mind's demons stopping her cold, leaving her vulnerable to attack. 

“You did well.” 

“It’s still not good enough, not by a long shot.” Estinien noted the tremor in her hands, and caught it in his, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to the tips of her fingers. Estinein would never admit to it, but he feared for her, feared for when she would be called back to the First, where he could not follow. He did not doubt her reprieve was nearing its end. 

“Take the compliment, Shiloh.” He chastised her. Keeping her focus on her improvements instead of her failings was a constant struggle. “You did well, you’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for.” 

“I still can’t beat you.” She mumbled under her breath. 

“My Lady, you bring me to my knees almost daily without so much as an onze of magic.” He stepped into her space, tucked a stray hair behind her horn. He bent to kiss her, careful of the sharp edges of his gauntlets. 

“Oh Gods.” She pulled back nose crinkled, forehead furrowed. “Gyuki guts.” She held out the hand that had circled his waist now covered in red-black viscera. 

Shiloh shook what she could from her fingers, and heaved. “Twelve preserve, the smell.” 

“It’s not so bad.” He groused when she moved out of reach.

“Estinien Wyrmblood, I have traveled with you while you were covered in dragon innards, and it didn’t smell half this bad.” She wiped her hands on her pants. “I swear gyuki are voidsent.”

“So dramatic.” 

She tugged him down by the collar of his armor, to kiss him gingerly on the lips. “I need to head back, the dress rehearsal starts in two bells and I need time to shower and change.” 

“Aye, aye.” 

“You’re still coming?” 

“I promised you I would.” 

“8th bell, don’t be late.” 

“And risk your ire, I wouldn’t dream of it.” She kissed him again, satisfied with his answer, and stepped back, channeling the transport spell that would return her to his cottage. How she managed to use the aetheryte network without so much as an upset stomach was a mystery to the former Azure dragoon. She gave him a wink before blinking away. 

Once gone, Estinien wondered, not for the first time, what he’d got himself into, and passed a gloved hand through his hair, streaking gyuki blood in his tangled white locks. He coughed and heaved at the smell, those beasts really did belong somewhere in the seven hells. 

* * *

  
  
  
  


The Kugane Dore was lively in the evening dusk, lamps setting it a glow, earning it’s name of the golden lane. The theatres hawked their plays, and dance exhibitions, and the vendors lining the main street took full advantage of the show going crowds. The constant buzz of conversation, mingled with wind chimes, and hawkers was enough to give Estinien a headache. 

He was minded to jump to the rooftops if only to escape the noise and jostle of too many bodies gathered in one place. He didn’t. Estinien had, as Aymeric was wont to call it, put in the effort for his night at the theatre. Pressed black trousers, leather shoes, polished, that pinched when he ran. Above, a pale blue, collard, button down shirt, layered with a midnight blue vest, and a matching pale blue pocket square. He’d rolled his sleeves to the elbow in the heat of the market, and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. No tie. There were lines Estinien refused to cross. He’d tamed his hair into a loose braid that fell down his back, stubborn whisps framed a scowling but otherwise decently handsome face. He felt like an idiot. 

There was time before Troup Falsiam’s show started, time enough for Estinien to find what he was looking for. He thumbed the item in his pocket, and moved on to the next market stall. The next held all manner of jade jewelry, in a myriad of colours, his eyes were drawn to a hair pin. Delicate, cascading purple flowers that reminded him of the day they spent at the park, each petal shaped from jade. He pulled the blown glass flower from his pocket, what remained of Shiloh’s old hairpin. He ran his thumb over it again, putting it back in his pocket and turned to the merchant. 

Estinien walked away from the stall having paid less than the asking price, but more than he would have liked. He reasoned if she was going to run into battle wearing flowers in her hair, they might as well be made of sturdier stuff than glass, and jade would last longer than a flower crown. The pin rested in an ornate box, too late a wave of anxiety washed over him, would she even like it? 

Estinien pinched the bridge of his nose, the lengths he would go for Shiloh were getting ridiculous, he pointedly did not think of the amethyst ring he’d almost bought. She couldn’t even say outloud how she felt, not that he’d repeated his own declaration. Estinien knew her engagement to Aymeric had gone south, knew how badly marriage and long term plans frightened her. They should, they did, frighten him just as much, though less so with her. No, he could be patient. He could wait until she was ready, and if she never was, it changed nothing, he would be beside her regardless. He gripped the lacquered box tighter, he was only replacing something that had been broken, nothing more. Estinien made his way towards the theatre. 

His seat was in the third row, an aisle seat, and he’d arrived late enough no one would need him to move his long legs to get past. Estinien glanced down at the program, the miqo’te, Ranaa, featured on the cover, he flipped through the pages, bored, impatient for the show to start so it could be over faster, and he could go back home. It wasn’t until he took a closer look at the front page that he saw two principal dancers listed, Ranaa Mhigo, and Shiloh Mitka. Estinien raised an eyebrow at that as the lights were dimmed. 

  
  


The music started before the curtains rose, Thanvarian flamenco, percussion and strings, setting the tone for the night. A flourish of feathered fans and a whirlwind of bladed rings unfurled like a flower revealing Ranaa and Shiloh at the center. Estinien found himself leaning forward on a loosely closed fist, his eyes taking in the spectacle but unable to look away from Shiloh. The coins and chains of her costume added to the percussion, her hips swayed, enticing, and he was drawn to the movement at times slow and undulating, and other times quick and sharp. He dragged his eyes up her body imagining tearing off the delicate chains, and slips of silk wherever they interrupted the curve of her scales. When finally Estinien brought his gaze to her face, a bolt of levin shot through him. Shiloh’s eyes were half lidded, mouth parted, enraptured, the music her puppet strings, helpless to it’s call. Ranaa circled her like a lover. The Miqo’te’s fingers trailed along pale skin, and Shiloh reacted in kind, creating symmetry in their movements, falling together, falling away, all while making their chakram’s sing and dance around them on bladed wings. The music rose, the pace increasing to a crescendo, and the two dancers circled closer and closer, creating the illusion of desire, embracing each other as the feathers closed around them. The music stopped.

The crowd erupted around him, Estinien closed his mouth, not sure when it had opened. His trousers uncomfortably tight. He didn’t have time to order his thoughts before the next song began, slower this time, a tango, one of the male dancers came forward, a Hyur, and Shiloh bent and curved to his every touch, she was fluid to his stone, wrapping around him, hooking her legs with his, intimate, on the edge of indecent with how their hands dragged across their bodies. Estinien felt a roar of possessiveness, and he’s not sure if it was him or his inherited aether reacting to her performance. The song ended with her back to her partner's chest, his hand on her cheek. Estinien shifted in his chair, something dark and electric coiled low in his spine, something primal. The feeling persisted and grew throughout the show. She was spellbinding, keeping the audience enthralled, the music a siren song, The entire troup created a beautiful tapestry on which Shiloh wove magic without a word. When the show came to a close and the troupe came out to take their bows, Estinien stood last. He caught Shiloh’s eye and her smile grew tenfold. It should have scared him, how readily his heart eased at the simple act, how her joy tempered the jealousy, and turned it into affection. His pride in her swelled at the cacophony of the crowd. They were still there, at the back of his mind, all those dark possessive thoughts, but for now, for her, he could abide them. 

Shiloh emerged half a bell later from the stage exit, having changed into her white sundress. She looked almost innocent, virginal, a stark contrast to the desire, and hunger she’d commanded on stage. He wanted nothing more than to debauch her, mark her as his for all to see, remind any who might recognize her just who exactly her mate was. Estinien bit his tongue, his draconic instincts singing in his blood. 

“So?” She approached him shyly, plump lower lip between her teeth. “Did you enjoy the show?” 

Estinien rubbed the back of his neck and looked away briefly before returning his gaze to hers. “Aye.” He stepped forward, “You’ve improved since I last got to watch you.” 

“That was different. Doesn’t count remember?” 

“Oh it counts.” He leaned down touching the tips of her hair, already Nidhogg’s aether was reaching for her, he ran his thumb over her lower lip, tugging it from between her teeth. “If you want a rematch, I wouldn’t be opposed to a private dance.” 

He admired the blooming blush painting her skin, how her lips parted on a gasp when he trailed his fingers down her throat. “I could go for a bite to eat? You?” 

“I- yes, I could eat.” She stuttered out breathless. Estinien smirked down at her, and she gave him a half hearted scowl. He even offered his arm. 

“My Lady.” 

She took his arm, “Ser Dragoon.”

Shiloh was oblivious to the eyes that followed her, to the flashes of recognition of those who had just watched her on stage. He’s only half listening as she recounted something about her friends in the dance troupe, grunted in reply when appropriate while he searched the streets. Estinien steered them towards one of the smaller tea houses, only to turn into a side alley a block and a half away. 

She stopped short, confused. As soon as they left the lamp light of the main street he was on her, kissing the questions from her lips, slipping his tongue along hers, pulling a soft moan from her throat. Estinien has learned much in the time spent with the Warrior of Light, like all the many ways to call out the needy little noises she made. He intended to use that knowledge to fill the dark recesses of the city with her pretty voice. Let her admirers see who she belonged to with the marks he would leave on her skin, let them hear who made her cry out in debauched pleasure. He backed her into a brick wall, Shiloh’s hands balled into his vest pulling him closer still. He tangled his fingers in her hair, tilted her head, pulling her up onto her toes, until even that distance was too much. They broke apart for air, yet he chased after her lips, caging her with his body, stealing her air so that all she could feel, all she could taste was him. 

“What has gotten into you?” She asked, dazed, golden eyes blown wide with lust, but the question was genuine. 

“You have.” He growled into her jaw, his hands dragging up her skirt, “bloody temptress. Do you even know what you looked like up on that stage?” She shook her head no in answer. “Menphina come to life.” 

“Estinie-”

“Two hours of watching you.” He leveled a dark look at her and palmed her breasts through her clothes, dragging the square neck of her dress down, freeing them from their confines, stopping her hands as she tried to cover herself. “Half the audience was openly lusting after you. I heard what they said about you, what they wished they could do.” He reached under her skirt skimming the skin that met her scales, following the curve to her inner thighs. She shivered, and he watched her lick her lips and swallow. Both hands found the waistband of her smalls. “Each of them wondering what you feel like.” He dragged his teeth along her throat, biting on the tender skin just above her collar bone, sucking a red mark on her fevered skin.”What you taste like.” Shiloh gasped a curse, he smiled against her skin. Estinien crouched on the balls of his feet, pulling her smalls down as he went. 

“You’re jealous?” He looked up at her words, she was wearing a teasing smirk, but it did nothing to mask how fast she was breathing, or the way her fingers traced the points of his ears. He answered her in kind, biting her hip through the fabric of her dress. She relinquished another keening moan stepping lightly out of the delicate scrap of pink lace, her arousal already evident. 

“I’m not jealous,” Estinien brought Shiloh’s smalls to his face and inhaled before he slipped them into his pocket. However, Estinien was petty, though he didn’t say so. “I just mean to return the torment.” 

“I had nothing to do with it, Nashmeira choreographed the whole thing.” She argued even as her body opened to him, the skin of her abdomen jumping beneath his lips and teeth. “I can’t control what other people think-” She hissed when he licked at the ivory scales at the top of her mound. “Or say.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” He brought a finger to her sex, tracing lazy circles over already slick folds.

“Someone might see us.” Her eyes flicked to the busy street they’d turned from, and back to him. 

“You seemed un-bothered by being seen when you were up on that stage.” He parted her folds and her mouth fell open in a silent moan. 

“You are jealous, you insufferable-” Shiloh’s sentence was cut off with a gasp as he pushed his finger inside her. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He pumped back out of her slowly, only to push back in, already so wet. 

Shiloh bit her lower lip, looked to the busy street mere fulms away and back at him, golden eyes glowing in the dark, “no.” 

  
  


It’s all he needed from her, he pumped his fingers faster before sliding a second into her grasping cunt. Estinien slowed long enough to hook one of her legs over his shoulder and tilt her hips forward, the sound of her hands slapping against the red brick wall he had her pinned against rang loudly in his ears. He devoured her, licking at her fluttering folds, the bud of her clit growing against the flat of his tongue. It amused him how hard she was trying to stifle her sounds, he adjusted his mouth, slowing his pace, setting his lips on the hood of her pearl grazing her with his teeth and sucked. His efforts were rewarded with a hand in his hair, as she yanked him closer by the roots, moans spilling one over the other. He groaned low in his throat at the sharp pain, it ricocheted through his body setting his nerves alight. Shilohs voice bit off a curse, so he did it again, and this time she shouted her pleasure before pressing a fist to her mouth. Almost. Estinein curled his fingers, quickly finding the change in texture within her and rubbed, fucking her on his hand. Shiloh’s fist wasn’t enough to dampen her pleasure, she tightened around his digits, and cried out his name in a sob. Nearly there. She bucked onto his tongue chasing her climax, and it’s then a wicked idea took hold of him. 

Estinien slowed his pace, Shiloh cursed above him, tried to rut against his face but he pulled back unhooking her leg, pulling his fingers from her wet heat, leaving her wanting, shaking, and glassy eyed, on the edge of oblivion. He pulled her smalls from his pocket to wipe the slick from his chin before tucking them back from whence they came. He rose from his crouching position and kissed her, sucked her tongue into his mouth so she could taste her desire. He palmed her breasts pinching her nipples to hard peaks. Shiloh’s hands were on his belt, eager for his cock. He was eager to give it to her, it would be so easy to turn her, and bend her at the waist, to rut up into the heat he knew was waiting for him. Never let it be said Estinein Wyrmblood couldn’t be patient when it suited him. 

“Would you like to come?” He husked against her horn, and she nodded eagerly, lips on his throat, her teeth on his skin. 

“Hmmm, so do I. I’ve wanted to take you since morning, but you made me wait, over and over again.” Her gripped the hair at the base of her skull guiding her head to look at him. “I’m tired of waiting.” 

“Then stop waiting.” Shiloh growled out as she opened his belt and palmed him through his trousers. Estinien hissed at the feeling, rocked into the slow friction of her palm. All while her head was tilted up at him, the hunger and need write in her hurried actions and wanton face. He groaned low in his throat when she freed him from the confines of his trousers giving him some perfunctory strokes before swiping the slick from his swollen head. 

“You seem to be having some trouble with keeping your voice down.” He smirked at her, “Let’s see if I can’t help you with that little problem.”

“Such a gentleman.” She squeezed her hands around him a little tighter on the next stroke, he claimed her lips in a hungry kiss, growling low in his throat and taking her hands from his member, holding both her dainty wrists in one hand and pressing them above her head. She was too short to take him on her knees, slowly he lowered her to a crouching position, balancing on the balls of her feet, knees opening wide, her skirt pooled around her hips, dripping cunt open to the air for anyone to see, where they to walk by. Shiloh’s eyes were burning aurum rings, searing into his soul, slowly she opened her mouth, pushing her tongue just past her lower lip.

“So eager.” Estinien husked, slipping his thumb into Shiloh’s waiting mouth, pressing down on her tongue, “Such a good girl.” 

He slipped the head of his cock past her lips, shifting his hand back to her hair, eyes rolling as her voice hummed around him, tongue lapping at the cleft on his cock. He pushed further, squeezing her wrists, angling her head the way he wanted. Shiloh bobbed eager for more, so he gave her just that, thrusting deeper into her mouth, the ridges of her palate sliding along his head. Her eyes fluttered shut, hands fisting and unfisting, Estinien noticed how she tried to close her legs and rub her thighs together, he chuckled low, and nudged them open with his calves. He was rewarded with her plaintive whimper. 

“Look at me.” He said, quiet but commanding, her eyes flew open, and he thrust in deeper past her gag reflex, felt her throat flutter around him, listened to her voice gurgle. He pet her hair, “You take me so well.” He groaned as he pulled out, only to thrust back into her throat deeper still. Tears slipped from wild, hungry eyes, and not for the first time Estinien wondered what he’d done in life to deserve her. “You are so bloody beautiful like this.” He pulled back, heard the sharp and quick intake of breath through her nostrils, he wiped the tears from her eyes, control fraying, silently asking her, she leaned into his hand and nodded as best she could with her mouth working his shaft. 

He took her horn and a fistfull of hair, stepped forward, widening her legs further and thrust down her throat, crown to root, her nose buried in his white curls. The alley filled with the wet gagging sounds of Shiloh’s efforts, her voice, when it broke through, was a lustful croon. Estinien let his hunger and his instincts take over, eyes locked on hers, as he fucked her mouth, drool running down her chin onto her pretty white dress, and the idea of her spit, and his seed staining that virginal dress was enough to make him growl, and fuck her harder. He pulled out when her eyes started to flutter, allowing a gasping breath before resuming his pace. Her eyes grew half lidded, her hands stilled in softly curled fists, throat open and relaxed for his pillaging cock. Fire burned through him, lightning quick, in ever increasing waves. He choked when the low rumble of her purr started humming around him, and Gods he wanted to go deeper, to find the source of that sensation, knowing if he could, she would let him. Estinien was close, feeling the tell tale tightening of his balls, each exhale a groan, until there was only oblivion, and the fall, he gave in, holding her head still, twitching inside her, releasing most of his spend down her throat, but he pulled out before he finished completely. One spurt hit the corner of her mouth, the last of his pleasure painted her bare breasts. 

Estinien released her hands, kneeling to catch her as she wobbled on sore legs, bringing her to a kneel. She was beautiful, face flush, spit and seed mingled with tears, her hair a mess, bare breasts and pink nipples dripping with her drool and his spend. He took her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilted her head, and dragged a finger along her cheek collecting his cum on the tip, bringing it to her lips, she gave him a rueful look and took his finger between her swollen lips to suck clean. He repeated the action, taking his time cleaning her breasts, passing over her nipples in slow deliberate strokes, knowing he’d left her wanting, stoking her fire in a slow, cruel kind of torture, basking in her hungry, golden gaze. Each and every time she opened her mouth for him, sucked his fingers clean, biting down on the tips when he was done. 

“Satisfied?” She asked, her musical voice reduced to a rasp. 

“For now.”

“You plan on finishing what you started?” She asked, pulling the pocket square from his vest, to wipe her face clean. 

“Eventually.” He chuckled at the affronted face she gave him. “I said I was tired of waiting.” He tugged the neck of her dress back over her chest, rising to stand, holding a hand out for her to take. “Not that I was tired of making you wait.” She took his hand, smacking him in the chest when she reached her feet, he chuckled harder. 

“At least give me my smalls back, you thrice damned bastard.” 

“Now where would be the fun in that?” He asked, shit eating grin plastered to his face as he ducked out of the alley back into the street. 

Shiloh chased, shoving him playfully, before he took her hand in his, and raised it to his lips to kiss the tips of her fingers. Estinien found a bench at the open air tea house and pulled her into his lap, slipping his finger under her skirt, mischief sparkling in his eyes, paying no mind to the blushing server when he ordered some tokoyaki and mango juice. Fingers inching ever closer to her already sensitive folds, entirely intent on continuing his teasing. Shiloh crossed her legs, trapping his hand between her thighs, effectively stopping it from travelling further. She returned his mischief with a smirk, and a raised eyebrow. 

“Estinien Wyrmblood, you are lucky I love you. You absolute brat.” She breathed out on a laugh. 

He did still then, mirth vanishing from his face, replaced with surprise and hope. “What did you just say?” 

“I-” She cleared her throat and looked away. 

“Say it again.” His free hand traveled up her back to pet the skin between her shoulder blades. 

“You’re a brat, Estinien Wyrmblood.” She whispered leaning towards him, eyes lowered, forehead to forehead. 

“Before that.” 

“-My, isn’t this cozy!” The moment was interrupted by a blonde man in round tinted spectacles. “It would seem the rumours are true, the former Azure Dragoon of Ishgard, and the Warrior of Light in a romantic entanglement. For once the Mythril Eye got it right!” 

“What do you want Hancock?” Shiloh went to get off Estinien’s lap, but he held her there. . 

“And? What of it?” Said former Azure Dragoon challenged, with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing at all, I can’t think of two people more deserving of a bit of happiness, I almost feel bad for delivering these letters.” The East Aldenard Trading companies Hingan man gave them both a most unsympathetic grin. 

“What letters?” Shiloh tore herself from Estinien’s grip. 

“Only recently arrived, during your performance as it happens, you were somewhat more difficult to find than anticipated, but I see now you took a detour.” His smile turned salacious. Shiloh brought a hand up to cover the still red mark on her neck. 

“Mind yourself.” Estinien growled, standing, and placing a hand on his lover's shoulder. 

“Oh ho ho, peace my friends, I tease. As promised, delivered to the Warrior of Lights hands, a missive from mistress Tataru, and one from Commander Aldynn, of Ala Mhigo.” Hancock produced the letters with a flourish, and Shiloh, reluctantly, took them. “And with that, my job is done, do enjoy the rest of your evening, as always the Ruby Bazaar offices are available to you, should you need them.” 

Shiloh was thumbing the unopened wax seals when Estinien put out his hand. “Whatever it is, it’s a problem for tomorrow.” 

“What if it’s an emergency? What if something’s happened to the Scion’s bodies? Or the Ananta re-summoned Lakshmi?” He pushed the cup of mango juice into her hands and put the missives in his vest pocket alongside his yet ungiven gift. He waited until she drank before speaking. 

“If it was urgent Tataru herself would have come to find you, trust me. The world will make due without it’s hero for one more night.” He kissed her forehead, grabbed their food and her hand and led her away, towards the ferry landing. 

They ate in silence on the boat, and walked hand in hand through the quiet streets of Shirogane until they arrived home, the moon high and bright in the night sky. The heated and playful mood utterly squashed by unknown, looming threats. They both knew duty would come for them eventually. He emptied his pockets, leaving the unopened missives on the kitchen counter beside the black lacquered box. Shiloh wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, her forehead pressing into the center of his back. Estinien squeezed her hand, before turning in the circle of her arms to properly hold her. 

“I love you.” She said. “Whatever tomorrow and tomorrow brings, I need you to know that I love you, Estinien.” 

“I love you too.” He answered simply, tracing the contour of her face, heart singing at her words and at how easily those same words came to his lips. “Whatever’s waiting for you, you won’t be facing it alone.” She nodded, and forced a smile, eyes shining from unshed tears. 

“I’m scared.” She whispered. 

“So am I.” 

He kissed her, far gentler then he had in the alley, He meant what he said, the world would keep for one more night. He deepened the kiss lifting her by her thighs and she wrapped her body around his, each pass of her lips, her tongue, her hands in his hair, growing more fevered and desperate. He carried her down the stairs to his bedroom, the world would keep for one more night, and he would hold off the dawn for as long as he was able. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to join like minded ffxiv fic readers and writers, join us over at the [Bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) I would love to hear from you! <3


End file.
